


The Search for Spring

by Aurum_Auri



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Cursed!Victor, Dancer Katsuki Yuuri, Everyone is in this, Fae & Fairies, Fantasy Standard Violence, Good versus Evil, M/M, Magic, Prince Victor Nikiforov, Secretly Badass Yuuri, Slow Burn, Wild Magic is dangerous, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-04-06
Packaged: 2018-09-23 10:54:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 55,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9652823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurum_Auri/pseuds/Aurum_Auri
Summary: Yuuri Katsuki would like nothing more than to make his family proud, and maybe one day learn how to control the magic burning under his skin. When he encounters the chance of a lifetime to perform at the wedding of a royal, his path crosses with that of the legendary adventurer and mysterious fourth prince of Corrusva, Victor Nikiforov. From that moment, everything changes.But Prince Victor hides a secret under his cheerful disposition, and it might just relate to the end of the world as they know it. The threat of an eternal winter looms before them. Between fairies, dragons, monsters, and magic, it won't be enough just to survive. If they can't band together, it might spell the end of the world as they know it.Slow burn Victuuri fantasy adventure featuring everyone in traditional rpg classes.





	1. The Legend of the Missing Prince

When Prince Victor Nikiforov was 14, he vanished.    
  
For a year, his people searched for him. The news traveled across numerous countries, on the magical  _ sendings _ of wizards, on the lips of guild artisans, through the stories of peasants and farmers.    
  
The young prince was nowhere to be seen. High and low, they looked, for the span of an entire year. But he couldn't be found anywhere on the Material Plane. The King and Queen began to quietly mourn the loss of their youngest son.    
  
The winter solstice had been the night he had vanished. But on the next turn of the holiday, just when all hope seemed lost, the prince was found lost in the woods, as though he had never left. His body had not aged a single day. He remembered nothing of his absence. It was like he had never left, and the Nikiforovs, as well as the rest of the kingdom, were overjoyed.   
  
But Victor was not the same.    
  
He stumbled out of a forest close to the castle, dressed in fine fabrics the likes of which had never been seen before. Exotic furs ringed his neck, the pelts of beasts which had not roamed the forests of Corrusva for thousands of years. Warm coats kept perfectly at bay the winter's chill, and on his feet he wore a pair of boots that shimmered with an unknown enchantment.    
  
He spoke softer, smoother, his smile more assured and controlled. There was a confidence to him that set everyone a little ill at ease, and yet at the same time felt perfectly right.    
  
And his hair was now as white as newfallen snow.    
  
Prince Victor had returned. The people rejoiced. And yet... all the while, whispers began. The prince acted differently now. Closed off. Friendly, but somehow unapproachable. His heart was as cold as the ice that laced the ground on his return.    
  
His skill with a sword became something of legend, and his knowledge of magic improved so rapidly that it set all of his tutors green with envy. Secrets unlocked themselves for him. The world was his.  When threats to the kingdom arose, it was Prince Victor who led the army's charge, sword in hand, fingers curling with glimmers of arcane blues and silvers. In times of peace, he traveled to other countries, brokering powerful alliances with ease. For the youngest son of the Nikiforov family, his life was set.    
  
But of course, the threads of fate were tangled things. Victor's thread had been smooth and straight since his return, unkinked by such things as Destiny and Conflux. A knot awaited down the road, a tangling of threads so great, it could spell the end of the world. Destruction awaited. It would not be stopped.    
  
And it all started with a dancer with eyes like the summer sun.


	2. Welcome to Corrusva

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri is given an offer he finds he can't refuse.

Steam rose off the water in lazy curls. The surface was still, cloudy with a complex combination of minerals Yuuri could rattle off the top of his head.    
  
Iron, like in swords and armor and blood. Calcium, chalky, caking up on the drinking glasses in a thin white film. Sulfur, like volcanos, warm and putrid as eggs gone sour. Magnesium, which blinded when lit. Potassium, zinc, chloride, residuum. Every one of them therapeutic. Relaxing.    
  
The team of wizards had done a study of it on their last visit. Their actual intentions had been to study Yuuri's out-of-control magic, brought here on Minako's recommendation. But after a few weeks with little to no results, they packed their things, drew themselves a teleportation circle, and returned to their cloistered school in the far-off mountains. That was three weeks ago. It felt more like an eternity.    
  
Now Yuuri had every line of the circle memorized (before it finally faded, as chalk tended to do), a detailed list up in his room of every mineral and type of magical energy infused into the hot spring's waters, and still no idea about why everything blew up in his face. He and Minako were at a loss.   
  
Yuuri stood from the water and wrapped his towel around his hips. The steam was getting to his head, making him dizzy. He'd been in too long, anyway.    
  
"The mayor visited while you were in the spring," his mother said as he passed. She was smiling, so there probably wasn't a need to worry, but even so, Yuuri knew well enough the leaps his mind made.    
  
He paused at the doorway to his room. His futon was rolled up in the corner, his floor desk where he left it, papers strewn about. Yuuri could see notation from here, jotted notes from the wizards, and a few of Yuuri's own observations besides. Nothing important. No answers, and no progress.  

His chest was tight with worry. "Did I do something?"   
  
"He has some kind of problem. But it wasn't so important we needed to interrupt you. He mentioned you could just drop by his house tonight, if you've got time."   
  
"Right, I- I'll get over there right away," Yuuri said. He retreated to his room with a groan.    
  
Eighteen years old. Still living with his family. Unmarried. And he couldn't even conjure a snowball without running the risk of everything blowing up in his face. Yuuri couldn't begin to fathom what the mayor wanted, except maybe to ask him, very politely, to please leave town before he accidentally conjured another fireball. That had been interesting to explain to the townspeople.    
  
He shook his head. There was nothing for it. He dressed in a tunic and breeches, his warmest boots, and pulled his favorite cloak over his shoulders to ward off the chill. "I'll be back!" he called. His sister, Mari, barely acknowledged it.    
  
Snow was falling. It was still early evening, the clouds giving everything a dull, grayish hue. The town was so quiet. The houses had a sleepy feel to them, idyllic in a way, old and comfortable and worn.    
  
War didn't touch Hasetsu. It offered nothing strategically, except perhaps hot springs, good food, rich soil, and healthy livestock. Attractive enough, certainly, but being forgotten had its perks.    
  
The mayor lived in a house almost as large as the ryokan Yuuri lived in, set a span of the hill near the old ninja house. The monks who once lived there were long gone, the devotees lost in some ancient conflict years ago, and there was no one left to keep the old ways alive. But the castle still stood, maintained for the worst case scenario.    
  
Yuuri rapped his knuckles against the brushed wood door of the mayor's house. "Sir? It's Katsuki Yuuri."   
  
The door opened. Inside was a shabbily dressed butler with greying hair, the mayor's only attendant. Yuuri was led across the threshold, through a dusty foyer, and into a drawing room that seemed to have seen better days. At the very least, the chairs were comfortable enough.    
  
"Tea?" the butler asked. His whiskery mustache twitched with the words. 

"That would be nice, thank you," he said. 

Yuuri was shivering. It was barely warmer inside than it was out. Heating a building this large was deceptively difficult, Yuuri knew from experience, and it seemed like the winter months left much of the place to run colder than normal. Yuuri tightened his cloak, thankful the butler had forgotten to ask after it.    
  
Tea arrived before the mayor did. Yuuri sipped at it as the mayor rushed in. "Sorry, sorry, so sorry," the mayor squeaked, bumbling across the room. He was disheveled. "Sorry about your wait, Mr. Katsuki-"   
  
"Oh, no, I'm sorry I missed you. I don't like to impose-"   
  
"No, no, not at all!" The mayor smiled, taking a seat in the chair opposite Yuuri. His smile cracked from ear to ear. "No imposition at all! I'm glad you arrived, actually."   
  
"I heard there was a problem?" Yuuri asked.    
  
The mayor nodded. "You could say that. Not a problem really so much as an opportunity. Okukawa Minako tells me you've become quite an accomplished performer."   
  
"I wouldn't say that." Surprise colored Yuuri's tone when he answered. Dancing had never initially been Yuuri’s goal. It had always been a means to an end. Sure, Minako liked to say he had talent, but that didn't mean he was  _ good _ . Just a hard worker desperate to get some semblance of control over his life. " I'm alright, but-"   
  
"Ohohoho, modest as ever, our Katsuki Yuuri," the mayor said, a delighted little chuckle filling the air. "I've got quite the gossip for you, if you've an ear for that sort of thing. I hear there's going to be quite the wedding in Corrusva in less than two month's time. One of those Nikiforovs is marrying a princess from the Sunset Isles, and they are looking for entertainment during the celebration. It's a near open invitation to try out, and they're preparing to audition for the ceremonies as we speak. I've already spoken with Lord Asahi, and he's passed your recommendations on to those in charge."   
  
"What?" Yuuri sputtered, nearly slopping tea down his front.    
  
"Don't go thanking me just yet. When I told Lord Asahi you were trained by Miss Okukawa herself, he also insisted on chartering your passage directly there. Carriage, attendants, the works! Quite generous, I must say," the mayor added slyly.    
  
"But... why? Why me?" Yuuri choked. He set his teacup roughly down on its saucer, porcelain rattling with a bit of menace.    
  
"To represent our beautiful country, of course! It's a lot of politics, really, most of it is beyond me, but Lord Asahi insisted. He will be in attendance and it would be poor taste not to bring along some sort of selection of gifts for the newlyweds. That seems to include a contribution to the entertainment. Getting you there in time for auditions is absolutely crucial."   
  
"You're not joking," Yuuri finally said.    
  
"Why would I be?" the mayor hummed. "This is the opportunity of a lifetime, my friend. Make us all proud!"   
  


* * *

  
Minako already knew. She'd been hoping to tell him the news herself, but the mayor had gotten there first.  It still seemed like a joke, really. "They want me? Why?"    
  
He couldn't stop asking, until Minako finally clapped a hand over his mouth and said, "enough with humble thing and accept that you're good enough. Now finish packing. There's a lot riding on this, and we have to leave tonight if we want to be there on time."   


Yuuri could have said no. Declining was an option. But this was the chance of a lifetime. His family had always gotten along on just enough, scraping by on hard work and a bit of luck. An opportunity like this was a dream. Even if it meant being away from his family, it was a chance at prosperity for the people Yuuri loved.  A job working for the royal family would pay well. Very well. Perhaps enough to set his family up comfortably for the rest of their days. 

Minako presented another idea, one Yuuri doubted, but privately nursed a small excitement for: the possibility of being kept on retainer by the royal family, a semi-permanent position for as long as he wanted it, a job like she once kept. 

Long shot as it was, the idea had a certain allure to it that even Yuuri couldn't deny. What would it be like, Yuuri quietly wondered, to impress one of the most powerful families in the world? Impossible, but oh, so attractive. Yuuri had lived most of his life in the shadow of a castle. Even unoccupied, it had always set his mind wondering. A childish fascination, really. Maybe it was time at last to indulge, even if it was only for a short while. 

Saying goodbye was hard, but in the end, there was no other option. His family and friends were proud of him, and they wished him only the best. His sister grabbed him by the head, pinning him under her arm so she could muss his hair. "Don't forget about us in that big city, okay?"   
  
He smiled. "I could never forget." With his luggage already loaded onto the carriage and Minako waiting within, there wasn't any more time.    
  
Corrusva awaited.    
  
The entire journey would not be done by carriage. There wasn't time for that, not by any means. Even by the most generous estimates, getting from the sleepy town of Hasetsu to Corrusva's capital of Rostele was a minimum of four weeks over a combination of land and sea travel.  Instead, it was a much easier ten days to Mavioy, where a teleportation circle would take them the rest of the way.    
  
Magic like this was unheard of for average people. It was rare enough as it was, and finding someone knowledgeable was hard, as Yuuri knew well enough. When it could be found, the cost of it was astronomical, enough so that even a simple mending spell wasn't more than a passing fantasy to most. When it was left to Lord Asahi's coffers, time was money.    
  
Still, that was ten days that Yuuri would have to put up with his instructor and the retinue of Lord Asahi's guards, as well as the jolting of the carriage's wheels over the slick, iced roads. All the while he prayed to every god he knew that the watery sun stayed right where it was, and that the snow didn't come back.    
  
They couldn't afford the delay a storm would cause.    
  
At the very least, the companionship was comfortable during the journey. By day, they rode inside the carriage, passing the time with stories. Minako and he entertained themselves with all manner of music, playing and singing and miming dance moves with just their arms.  At night, they stretched their legs around a campfire, cutting loose and dancing around the flickering flames. They slept just long enough to rest the horses, and they'd be on the way again, hoping the clouds didn't spill before they arrived.    
  
Yuuri's worst fears never seemed to materialize. The road was smooth enough (although Yuuri was certain his behind would be immensely sore for a while) and the weather was decent. They arrived unharmed and on time to the massive city of Mavioy. 

Yuuri's entire body felt stiff, but he was forced to stay put for a few more hours. Minako said they would go to a place she knew, some building that was apparently the workplace of a wizard she was friends with. The same wizard, Yuuri assumed, who had probably told Minako about the researchers that had failed to figure out the source of Yuuri's magic. 

It was a blessing to stumble to his feet at long last, the evening sun weak but holding on, despite the clouds.  They'd missed the city to the closed curtains of the carriage. Minako's advice had been to ignore the view completely. They didn't have time to sightsee anyway. They could visit when he returned, and Yuuri relented. Now they were outside once more, fresh air cool on Yuuri's skin,    
  
In front of them was a large building, scarlet and black, with sweeping gables peaking high in the air, as though attempting to pierce the sky itself. A shimmer rippled through the air. Yuuri found himself squinting, but the afterimage remained.    
  
"Magnificent, isn't it! I haven't been here in years," Minako said.    
  
"Very pretty," Yuuri agreed.    
  
Minako gave him a look. "You don't see it, do you? Look past the illusion. Once you know it's there, you can see around it."   
  
Yuuri blinked twice, and it was like the mirage-like shimmer was wiped away with her words. The rippling vanished, revealing a massive gold construct that dwarfed the original structure. It eclipsed the sky, blindingly bright and dazzling to behold.  The structure of the building was mostly unchanged, but the scale of it seemed unbelievably larger. "It's- Whoa, it's amazing, Minako-"   
  
She was smug beside him, smirking into her hands. Her pointed ears gave a small twitch of satisfaction. "Like I thought."   
  
Yuuri forced himself to calm, but he was bouncing on the balls of his feet like an excited child. "This is the most amazing thing I've ever seen! An illusion? It was like the building wasn't even there!"   
  
"You could do it it too, if you applied yourself," Minako said. She hummed as she led the way inside, past the open golden gates. Her green cloak caught the wind, flaring out. Yuuri followed close behind, and the retinue of Lord Asahi's took the rear.    
  
Past the gates, the short courtyard was cut through by a stone path. On either side of it, Yuuri could make out dense growths of herbs and medicinal plants, as well as unidentifiable flora that seemed uniquely magical in nature. The plants gave off a pungent, spicy aroma that Yuuri recognized as the mingling of whitherroot and vheshti. They were led up the steps to the building.      
  
Inside, Yuuri was met by a new sight, that of a massive, open room bristling with more doors. A twisted set of twin staircases curved up to an open landing above, railed off and overlooking the entrance.  Everything was made of dark wood, panels of bright red enamel, and gold glittering all throughout. Light came from globes hovering in the air. It was ostentatious, and it overwhelmed with magic.    
  
A strikingly beautiful elf with short, black curls and mismatched eyes came bounding forward down one staircase, squealing and clasping Minako's hands in her own bandaged ones. As she closed the distance, Yuuri noticed a thickly cloying smell that burned his nose and left him gagging.    
  
"Mina~" she cooed, lilting with the soft sound of the elven tongue. "It's been so long."   
  
"Wonderful to see you, Olea," Minako said. She jabbered back in rapid fire elvish, so quick it was almost hard for Yuuri to keep up    
  
"Have you come to reclaim your laurels?" the elf woman teased. "Cassie won't give them up so easy, but I doubt you'll have any trouble."   
  
"Not today," Minako said, turning back to Yuuri. She beckoned him forward with a nod. "This is my apprentice, Yuuri Katsuki."   
  
"A human?" the elf cooed, looking intrigued. Up close, the smell was even worse, like death and decay and mortal rot, barely masked by a subdued whiff of roses. Yuuri was nauseous. "So this is where you've been the last few years. We were starting to worry you'd forgotten all about us!"   
  
"No such luck," Minako said with a laugh. "Yuuri, this is one of my old friends, Oleander Nariine. Don't mind the smell, you get used to it."   
  
"What... smell?" Yuuri coughed, trying to be polite.    
  
Oleander laughed. "He's so sweet, what a darling! His death will be absolutely precious!" She curled her fingers into a loose heart shape and beamed.    
  
Yuuri's eyes bugged. "I- my- My what?"   
  
"Your death, of course! Death is so fascinating. Your body all cold and still and lovely? Can I bring you back if you do?" she asked. Her eyes sparkled with childish glee.    
  
"Of course not!" Yuuri sputtered.    
  
The elf pouted. "Oh, pooh. Everyone always says that. Fine, keep your cute corpse." She huffed and crossed her arms over her bared stomach. The bandages were not limited to her hands. They wrapped up her forearms, around her throat, binding her midsection. A thick scar peeked out from under the edges of the bandages around her midriff. Herbs poked out of the bandages, as though they had been stuffed there and forgotten. A wand jutted from the waistband of her skirts.    
  
Suddenly everything clicked.  Yuuri gestured to wand, wrinkling his nose as the death-smell seemed to get worse.  "Are you a... ahem...?"    
  
"A necromancer? Ah, don't worry, I'm state sponsored!" Oleander said, as if it were all very simple.    
  
"Right," Yuuri said, blinking in vague disbelief. Oleander laughed once more and lead them further inside, chattering aimlessly to Minako.  At one point during the walk, a raven swooped down and landed on her shoulder, where it remained for the duration. Yuuri shivered in faint horror. 

Wizards were not common. They often stayed in clusters, educated in the few remote universities that existed throughout the land, and it wasn't common to see them. Wizardry was hard stuff, and it took a special kind of person to get the hang of it. Yuuri certainly never did, despite Minako's best efforts.    
  
Among wizards, certain kinds were more and less common. It was basic knowledge. Natural inclinations and personalities shifted a wizard's focus to a specific school, and that was simply how it was. Necromancers, though. You didn't see them often, for obvious reasons. Bit of a reputation, and usually well-earned. Finding one here set Yuuri a bit ill at ease, no matter how friendly she might have been.    
  
It turned out that Oleander was their ride, so to speak. She led them to a quiet room tucked away from the main building, and she immediately got to work on chalking a circle onto the ground.    
  
Yuuri watched closely as she swirled the stick in deliberate strokes along the floor, the lines glittering with some kind of powdered gemstone that was infused into the chalk. Her tongue poked out the corner of her lips as she worked.   
  
The last time Yuuri had seen the spell was the small group of wizards at the onsen. He'd asked them how it was done, but they wouldn't 'share their secrets'. Absent minded bastards had left the chalk lines behind, so Yuuri at least knew what the circle looked like.  This one was different.    
  
"Is it supposed to look like that?" Yuuri asked, taking slow steps around the circumference.    
  
Oleander nodded. "Got an interest in magic, human? Good, good, magic is wonderful! This is a teleportation circle, and the pattern I draw tells the circle where to connect. There are permanent circles in important locations. One here too. And anyone with a grasp on the spell and knowledge of the unique magical pattern of that particular circle can teleport there in one easy go!"   
  
"So it always matches the destination?" Yuuri mused.    


Oleander talked happily throughout the entire process of inscribing runes and complex lines onto the floor, as if the act were so rote it took no conscious thought on her part to draw the pattern. 

"Yessiree! This is to a teleport circle in Rostele's citadel, not far from the castle. Had to learn it last week. Gotta have special chalk infused with gemstones, a bit pricy but I don't have to pay anymore, now that I have a sponsor, so that's super nice! Here, I've got an extra, take it. You and your guys can go right through as soon as I open the door. Which should be... right..."    
  
She muttered a few words of elvish under her breath, so quickly Yuuri almost missed them. There was a glint of light, a spark, and then light rose out of the lines to reach toward the ceiling. The shimmery glow had a vaguely white color to it, an iridescence that made it sparkle.    
  
"There we are, hurry up!"   
  
Minako didn't need any more invitation than that, hurrying into the light of the circle with the easy grace of her swaying step. Yuuri followed along behind, joined by the majority of the guards, who carried the luggage.    
  
Oleander waved as they vanished, one by one. "Byeee! Let me know if you ever change your mind, Yuuri~!"   
  
The flare of light blinded Yuuri, and there was a sudden tugging sensation that ripped him back, nearly knocking him off his feet. It was only with the grace of his years of dance that he wasn't bowled over instantly. He steadied himself. Two of the guards were on their backs, groaning. Yuuri helped right them before taking a look.    
  
The room was simple, the only adornment being the deeply carved runes inset into the ground, charred into it as though burnt. They matched perfectly the runes which Oleander had drawn. 

Even the lights were plain, nothing more than candles set in wall sconces, guttering in the soft draft. The walls were dark and slightly rough. The door opened with a low whine.    
  
"More arrivals!" a voice yelled out, and Yuuri found himself tugged along by Minako.    
  
Outside the church, Yuuri was instantly struck by how different everything was. Gone were the comfortable, familiar gabled roofs, the decorated archways that could be found everywhere. Even the brief peek of Mavioy couldn't act as proper comparison. 

The architecture was rich, thickly detailed and overwhelmingly colorful. The tips of spires would bulge with swirls that would then spiral up into sharp points that pricked the clouds like needles. The cathedral was ornate inside and out, and it took all of Minako’s strength just to keep Yuuri moving along. 

The city was massive. One look outside made that much painfully obvious. This was not a city to blindly wander around, if pressed for time. 

Set against a gigantic hill, the whole of it was splayed out in sprawling tiers, each one walled off from the one below it. They were near the peak, the second highest tier, from the look of it. It was hard to see the size of the area they were currently in, but Yuuri could see the rest of it well enough. The scale of even one tier made Yuuri's entire town look small, and there were at least six that he could see. 

As the tiers descended, the buildings became smaller, less decorated, more uniform in their construction. At the slope's bottom, farmland sprawled beyond the horizon. Above him, the castle soared high into the sky, magnificent and eye-catching, wreathed by a forest that protected the back of the city.   
  
"How big is this place?" Yuuri gasped.    
  
"Big," Minako said. "Big enough to get lost, so stay close. We've got a guide taking us to the castle. Wherever he is..." She scanned the throngs of people moving past.    
  
There were so many people. None of them looked twice at them, which alone was strange enough. Yuuri was nothing too interesting, a simple human, and it wasn't surprising to see the way their eyes slid over him like he wasn't even there. To see their gazes pass by an elf like Minako as well was more interesting by half.    
  
Maybe the most interesting thing was that, as Yuuri watched the seas of people, Minako wasn't even out of place. There was a massive mix of people found in the city. Most of them were human, like Yuuri himself, but sprinkled here and there, infinitely more common than he'd ever seen in Hasetsu, were dwarves, elves, even a few gnomes and the rare halfling or two.  Once, Yuuri even noticed a man with translucent blue skin pass them by, his every step so light it made Yuuri envious.    
  
After a time, a man with dark hair and a serious expression came to a stop beside them. He inclined his head respectfully. "You are the ones I was sent to collect, correct? Katsuki Yuuri and company?"   
  
"Finally," Minako grumbled. "We weren't getting any younger here."   
  
"Good. I will lead the way, if you could follow." He spoke in a monotone.    
  
The walk was chilly, but short. It took less than twenty minutes to reach the gates of the castle tier. Another five to pass through the gate, as the grouchy guide scolded incompetent gatekeepers. Finally, Yuuri could see the castle in its entirety, breathtakingly beautiful in every way.    
  
Spires clawed up into the cloudy skies. The threat of snow was as real here as it was back home, even with the time difference between the lands. Yuuri wondered if it was just his imagination, or if the castle would look like something out of a fairytale if it was covered in snow. Maybe he'd be lucky enough to find out.   
  
In the yards surrounding the palace, troupers tents had been erected as far as the eye could see, forming a small town around the edges of the stone structure. Every color splashed vibrantly against the winter grass, rippling with banners and pennant flags stretched between the blocks of tents. Fire pits and laughter and music rose out, joyful and bright. Yuuri could make out the movements of dancing.    
  
Other performers.    
  
It didn't come crashing down around him until he'd been led inside the warmth of the interior of the castle. The realization of where he was and what he was supposed to be doing was too much.  His footsteps stuttered, and he nearly tumbled to the floor. He tried to look at his hands. His vision wavered and blurred until even his spectacles were no help to him. He couldn't breathe.    
  
His body shook, and he distantly realized it was just Minako shaking his shoulder roughly. She pulled him aside.  "Yuuri, what's the matter?" she said.    
  
"I can't do this," Yuuri whispered.    


Minako shook her head. He wondered if she'd really said, ‘I thought we'd make it,’ or if it was just Yuuri’s imagination.  "You can do this, and you will. You've got more talent in your pinky finger than any of these fools, and you're going to prove that tomorrow."   
  
"You don't know that," Yuuri moaned. He held his head in his hands and wavered on his feet. What was he doing here? It didn't seem real until this exact second. He was in a castle, an honest-to-gods castle where the King and Queen of Corrusva resided. He was finally inside of a real castle, in the capital city of a massive foreign kingdom, seeing first-hand the finery of what royalty could expect from life. 

He was so far from home.

Even this damned corridor was too much too fast, thick with gorgeous tapestries depicting valiant battles against beasts and monsters, silver dragons swooping through starlit skies, and knights dressed in gleaming armor.  There was a casual luxury in the decorations, something of rich fabrics and understated money for countless generations, a wealth that was underscored by immense power and generations of control.    
  
The dynasty of the Nikiforovs had lasted for nearly a thousand years. Every death and marriage and new child was history being made, written into books for generations to come. What was Yuuri even doing here, thinking he could bear witness to something so historic? The gall to think he was a good enough dancer to perform for the legendary family.    
  
Minako wrenched him around, forcing him to look her in the eyes. "Yuuri. You're the most dedicated student I've ever taken in. Over 200 years of students: elves, half elves, humans. I've even taught a water genasi a waltz! But don't ever for a second think you don't belong here, because none of them worked half as hard as you."   
  
Yuuri's breath was shaky as he breathed in and out.    
  
"I want you to forget about everything and just dance. When you get to your room, I want you stretching and warming up. We're running through your choreography until dinner. Up and at it!"    
  
Minako gave him a rough shove to the back. It had a grounding effect, moving him from his rooted spot, and he stumbled after the small procession of Saga soldiers.    
  
The rooms were as magnificent as the rest of the castle. He was even given apologies for the small size, but it was still larger than the largest room in the onsen back home. The scale of everything consistently took Yuuri aback. It was like everything was scaled up, taller ceilings, wider rooms, grander decorations. He rested a hand on the bed.    
  
Even back home, Yuuri slept on a futon on the floor, which he would diligently roll up every morning and put away. This was a raised mattress placed inside a solidly built wooden bed frame. Postered hangings hung from the top of it. Yuuri pulled them aside and found a thick, black duvet embroidered with silver threads. The material was soft beneath his fingers.    
  
The soldiers left Yuuri's two bags beside the door. They would stay in the barracks with the Nikiforov's own forces, awaiting the arrival of their lord in three week's time. They would remain regardless of whether or not Yuuri had the talent to perform at a high enough level. Minako had rooms nearby, given a place of honor, it seemed.  Her rooms made Yuuri's new living space seem small, bland, and a bit on the poor side.    
  
"Well, at least someone remembers me," she'd muttered, smirking as she ran her hands over a solid gold candlestick.  Minako had once danced for kings. Her abilities were unrivaled, her grace unmatched. But she was older now, even for elves, and her passions had turned toward instruction, rather than performing herself.    
  
Yuuri often wondered what she saw in him, a boy who was the son of innkeeps from a sturdy little town in the Saga foothills. She'd met fantastical creatures, nobility, and all manner of amazing people.    
  
"And one day you will, too," she always capped her stories with. She was so confident in this.  Maybe she was right. Maybe Yuuri would get to meet nobility. Or at least dance somewhere near their presence. Or maybe she was wrong, and Yuuri would embarrass not only himself, but also his entire village. The thought made him feel sick, so he poured himself into the exercises. 

Their stretches served to suitably distract Yuuri from the stress. It was easy to lose himself in the familiar actions, until they were allowed entrance into a studio that seemed more suited towards swordsmanship than dance.    
  
"This is where judging takes place," the sullen guide had told them. "We plan to begin the process early tomorrow morning. Please be awake in time for assignations."   
  
Minako studied his pale face, the way he picked at the dinner that had been brought to their rooms, the way the trembling just never seemed to stop.  "You're not going to let those other dancers beat you, are you?"   
  
"What?" Yuuri said.    
  
"You're acting like they're better than you. They aren't. They're mostly humans, just like you, and there's fifty spots available. You  _ will _ do well, and I am going to make certain of it."  The nerves didn't leave. The overwhelming muchness of the luxurious rooms was still a point of high stress.    
  
But the thought of defeat curled sourly in Yuuri's stomach, tense and hot. He was here, wasn't he? Far from his familiar onsen. Yuuko had always told him he'd shine one day. This was his chance.   
  
That night steadied him. He slept uncomfortably on the too-soft bed, but his body felt light. He ate a light breakfast at dawn and jogged up to where Minako slept. The run was enough to wake him up, but not bring a sweat to his skin.    
  
He dressed in his costume, and she made his face up so that it would be less depressingly average. She took his spectacles from him and pushed his hair back from his face.    
  
"Do you remember your routine?" Yuuri nodded, wordless. "You remember your spells?" Another nod. "Good. Let's see when you go."   
  
They arrived in the sparring room-turned-dance studio. Yuuri was going to be sick. The number of people was mindblowing. Fifty had seemed like a simple number, but Yuuri struggled now to wrap his mind around it. There was at least quadruple that here right now, and more were trickling past in a steady line.    
  
How many people had rooms within the castle? How many were in the trouper's camp outside? And how many more were native to the city, up before dawn to trek all the way here and see the turnout?   
  
The lines were well organized. Thanks to that, the pace moved relatively quickly. There were six massive urns moved into the room, their mouths shadowed by cloth. The line wound back and forth through the room and came to a point at a table just in front of the six urns.    
  
Yuuri waited his turn, wedged between a halfling in a jester costume and a half-orc with what seemed to be a full piano on her back. Thanks to the half-orc, Yuuri found he wasn't short on space. Minako tapped her foot anxiously.    
  
The nervous energy extended outward, affecting everyone in strange ways. There was a lot of nerves. A lot of personality expressing itself to deal with nerves. Singing, dancing in place, bragging, and a few people clutching the hems of their costumes and blubbering.    
  
Finally Yuuri reached the front of the line.    
  
"Name." The sullen guide from before was glaring over a sheaf of parchment.    
  
"Yuuri Katsuki," Yuuri said, and the parchment shimmered, turning a deep forest green.    
  
The guide nodded. "You're approved. Pick one," he continued, extending a small bowl towards Yuuri. A half dozen marbles rested inside.    
  
He reached in and drew one out. It was clear and had a number inside, a six if he wasn't mistaken. The guide gave it a cursory glance, jotted a quick comment on the parchment, and pointed to the last urn in the line.    
  
"Day six. Draw one of the tiles. It contains your time slot. Do not be late," the guide said. He returned the tiny marble to the bowl and rattled them. Yuuri nodded.    
  
Behind the table, the urns were set up on two foot tall pedestals, making them reach up as high as Yuuri's shoulder. The fabric across the top had a gap in it. Yuuri pushed his fingers through and felt a pile of cool tiles against his fingers. He wrapped his fingers around one and pulled it out.    
  
It was a dusky blue color, glossy and smooth like glass. Printed on the front, Yuuri could read the time. 7:00 am.    
  
He was going first. Last day. Yuuri was going to be sick.    


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's play a game. I've rolled up partial character sheets for most of the characters. If anyone can figure out the builds I'm running for any of the YOI characters, you'll win an NPC cameo! Your only clues are that 1) this is mechanically based off 5e 2) I have in my possession (in some way shape or form) nearly every splat/crunch book available for 5e 3) I am very fond of unearthed arcana and multiclassing. 
> 
> First come, first serve on each character. Some will be easier than others, and one of them has been slightly modified for story purposes. For the cameo (about as large as what I did with Oleander here, just to serve as an example), you need the exact number of levels in each class. You don't need spells or anything (although that might help you pin down the classes!). Gooood luck! Some will definitely be harder than others. I'll release the character sheets once people figure them out!


	3. Princely Duties

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victor is melodramatic.

"Remind me again why I can't plan the defense regiment's schedule during the wedding."   
  
"Because  _ that  _ particular job is the duty of the second son. However the second son is currently getting married, and so the duties fall to the third son, who clearly has nothing better to."   
  
Chris smiled, and the touch of fey in his blood made his hazel eyes glitter indecently. Victor let out a groan.    
  
"Father just likes knowing I'm miserable. I really wanted to plan the regiment schedule! I'm the one who leads the charges in battle! The men trust me, and I know them," Victor whined. “And it's so important to get right.”

Chris took him by the shoulder. They were walking through the winter gardens, thick cloaks around their shoulders to keep them warm. Chris looked cold, but Victor didn't even notice the chill. He never did, not anymore.    
  
"You know the entertainment is also important," Chris said. "It's what the other nations will take away from this event when it is finished. No one recalls the decorations when they're home. They remember the stunning dancers and clever magicians. You've got a keen eye, and your mother knows it. She trusts you with this."   
  
"I know, I know," Victor grumbled. He glared daggers at the black oak. The first frost had laced the dark wood with fractals of dazzling white. A good ice storm would weigh the branches down and coat them in ice completely, like a fine shell. The rose bushes would have their thorns dripping with cold, even more wickedly sharp than before. An entire  garden of razor blades that only lasted until spring. Dangerous, but ephemerally beautiful.    
  
Chris was shivering lightly, and Victor looped their elbows. "Old friend, you look cold. Let's head in."  Chris smiled gratefully. The temperature was noticeably warmer inside the door, but the feeling was somewhat muted. Victor knew it was warmer. He could just barely feel it.    
  
"Your wedding should come soon," Chris remarked. "The first son married to a princess of Arrisun, the second to a princess of the Sunset Isles. If the trend continues, I do wonder where your betrothed will come from. Somewhere equally warm?"   
  
"Don't remind me," Victor sighed. "I suppose I should be thankful. I can disguise my adventures as mindless sightseeing for a while yet, and there's still my third brother to marry before me." 

"That is always true," Chris agreed.    
  
The King and Queen were eager for the day Victor was married off. It would mean he’d be forced to settle down, and Victor dreaded the thought. He didn’t have time for marriage. 

It wasn't becoming of a prince to be an adventurer. The idea of a wealthy man making himself even more immensely wealthy was slightly better. Even so, his family were burningly curious about where Victor's private wealth came from, and without concrete answers, they hoped Victor would soon settle down and leave this nonsense behind him.    
  
It wasn't as though Victor did it for the gold. It greased wheels and bought silence, but it didn't love him back the way Makkachin did.    
  
Adventuring, though. Now that was a worthy passion. A fickle mistress that stole Victor's heart. The give of magical artifacts lost to time, the take of his blood and sweat and tears. In the depths of a darkened dungeon, only Victor's most trusted men at his back, there was no telling what they would find. There wasn't time for love in a world like that.    
  
The dingy little silver rapier at Victor's side was like an insult. It would barely sustain in a real fight. Its purpose was decorative in nature, first and foremost, its pommel useless and crusted with jewels. Propriety said Victor should wear a blade at his belt. Society did not like which blade Victor would have chosen.    
  
Just thinking about adventure made Victor's blood burn. He would carry out his courtly duties with a regal smile, but inside, he was miserable. He wanted action.    
  
Victor smiled impishly. "Chris, do you think that suit of armor is currently in too few pieces?"   
  
Chris grinned back, noting the change coming over Victor immediately. "I think it might be."   
  
They glanced up and down the corridors, but the way was empty. The decorative suit of armor stood innocently between two tapestries, the surface shining with the light of the ever-burning torches on the walls. Such a pretty, perfect target.    
  
Victor opened his palm, extending it flat and facing the ground. He curled the fingers of his left hand around the right, brushing against with delicate touches. Victor's right hand clenched, and he was pulling, drawing his hands apart, a shimmer growing between them. The motion was like unsheathing a blade from his hand. There was a soft fall of snowflakes from his fingertips. In a single swipe, suddenly the sword was there, long and curved and wickedly sharp. The blade crackled along the edges with the promise of winter, keen and glittering. Victor grinned. He gave it a few experimental swipes through the air, and it seemed to sing through the wind.    
  
"I never get tired of that," Chris said.    
  
"Neither do I," Victor said, beaming. He spun the sword a few times through his fingers. And maybe he was showing off, just a bit, savoring the feel of letting loose for the first time in a while.    
  
He pretended to parry, dancing left, then right, dodging imagined strikes launched at him by the suit of armor. He spun further left and ducked under a sweeping strike that aimed to separate his head from his shoulders. Right, left, and a jump at a lunge toward his legs. Finally he swept out, lashing the blade across the length of the chest plate, cleaving it cleanly in half. A flash of cold exploded over the metal, leaving a spray of ice along the wall behind.    
  
Chris was almost in tears. "Well, at least you're not trying to do the entertaining!" he laughed. "That was terrible!"   
  
"I'll have you know I'm a terrific entertainer." Victor straightened out of a battle pose and rested the sword against his shoulder. "I could make a living out of it if I wanted."   
  
"Stick to what you're good at," Chris said.    
  
Victor and Chris laughed as they fell into step, leaving the armor crumpled in a pile on the floor behind them. The spray of ice was as good as a sign saying 'Victor was here', and it made Victor smile just to think. He swished his sword a few more times and then let it vanish in a spray of snowflakes.    
  
"I guess you'll be busy all next week with this, then, won't you?" Chris asked.    
  
Victor nodded. "We've got the hopefuls divided out over the next few days. We'll send home anyone who isn't up to par, and then we'll take the short list and whittle that down to the fifty we want next week. Bards would be nice, I like to see a little bit of magic in a show. But you know how hard to find those are," Victor said. He grinned at Chris.    
  
"Anyone can play a lute, given enough practice. Few can make it truly sing with magic," Chris agreed.    
  
"We'll need a few fire-eaters. I guess it's a popular show on the Sunset Isles, and the princess is feeling homesick. Big Brother's special request. Mother likes ballet danseurs, father is fond of anyone who can play a song that makes you want to dance, and my siblings cannot for the life of them come to agreements on whether it's better to have the comedians dressed in jester motley or not."   
  
"Not," Chris said. "The harlequin suits are so unbecoming, and the stereotype makes it easy to get by with substandard routines. A real costume will always be more flattering by far."   
  
"I'll take it into consideration," Victor said warmly. They rounded the corner, and the mess of people was unmistakable. "I miss my sparring room. It's a shame the ballroom isn't available for this sort of thing."   
  
The entertainers made such a racket. A creative, noisy bunch, with too many mismatched colors to ever be appealing to the eye. A few stared at him as he passed, and he threw them a smile and a wave.     
  
"Basking in the attention, are we?" Chris purred. Victor didn't indulge him with a response. The entertainers were tugging the sleeves of their companions, pointing and whispering excitedly as they took notice of the passing prince.    
  
"Let them have their fun. They'll all hate me very soon anyway."   


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apparently there is going to be a Rage of Bahamut x Yuri On Ice crossover. Let's get real here. Look, I get it, fabulous gay wizard Victor is fantastic. He looks good in that coat. But please, think for a moment! Spellsword Victor. SPELLSWORD. VICTOR. Arcane power curling in one hand, a blade in the other, deadly grace and efficiency. And then that show off Nikiforov flouncing off the battlefield so Yuuri can yell at him for being reckless. THINK.


	4. The Moonlight Aria

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stress is eating Yuuri alive, and there's only one thing to do.

The blessing of pulling the last day was that Yuuri had plenty of time to rehearse. The curse of pulling the last day was that he could see firsthand just how tough this was going to be. For the next three days, Yuuri watched a steady stream of performers leave the castle in twos and threes, faces red and cheeks streaked with tears.    
  
Working an event as important as this was a feather in any entertainer's hat, and earning the official favor of royalty could mean a ticket to a comfortable, easy life. Losing that would leave any hopeful crushed.    
  
By the fourth day, a third of the trouper camps had gone, leaving scars of winter earth on the lawns. The ones that were left had tightened down the hatches in preparation for snow.    
  
The cold was familiar and comfortable, but Yuuri was still outside of his element. The fear of messing up was too great to simply forget. And so Yuuri ran through his routines with a fervor, practicing the movements, feeling the bubble of magic running under his skin.    
  
Success was currently defined entirely as him not blowing up half the castle, and so far, Yuuri could consider his practice to be successful. The bar was low, but at least it was set.    
  
The first week was finally becoming something of a routine, and it made time pass faster to know how his day would play out.    
  
Meals were taken in either his rooms or Minako's. They practiced outside, in the cold, where the other performers rehearsed. It was nauseatingly nerve-wracking, but Yuuri somehow made it through.    
  
Sometimes performers sharing the same day would trade time slots. Some liked to sleep in, others wanted to be done early. Yuuri wanted to trade his away, but he held tight. His nerves always got the better of him, the longer he thought about things. Thinking was the enemy.    
  
Better to tackle this early in the morning, before he could think about how he would be compared to everyone else.    
  
Yuuri also like to think that it would be good luck to hold onto it. He hoped he wouldn't be wrong.    
  
Yuuri was nervous. There was no way to avoid it. He could practice for hours outside, but that meant nothing when he'd soon be dancing in the castle's sparring room, especially with little-to-no idea who would be judging him and how the decisions would be made.    
  
The too-soft bed never really was very comfortable, Yuuri thought, staring at the hangings. His room was dark, and the sounds of Rostele were different than the sounds of Hasetsu.    
  
His home had been heavy with summer crickets and the morning cries of songbirds. The rooms in the castle were eerily silent, save for the mournful sounds of the draft sailing down empty corridors.    
  
Yuuri wrapped his navy cloak around his shoulders and padded out of his room, still in his slippers and nightclothes. He needed sleep, he'd be dancing tomorrow morning, but all Yuuri could feel was the nervous energy arcing through him.    
  
Guards patrolled down the corridors, noisy in their suits of armor. They moved in ones and twos like cockroaches, dressed carapaces of glinting steel and silver, their faces helmeted. There were only a few, but they kept a constant watch over the castle. Yuuri wondered what they'd do if they noticed him.    
  
He ducked into the shadows, keeping his footsteps light as he picked his way around them.    
  
The guard yawned. Yuuri took the chance to duck past him, quiet as a mouse. His dancer's training kept him agile.    
  
Finding his way back to the sparring room took him far longer than it should have. Yuuri was ready to give up and call it a night when, upon getting lost while searching out his room, he came across a small platform where a suit of armor once stood.    
  
It had gone missing after the first day, and the landmark was just recognizable enough to help Yuuri find his way.    
  
He was close. After a minute or two more of backtracking, Yuuri finally found himself at the double doors of the sparring room. The doors weren't locked, luckily. Not that there was a need for the room to be locked.    
  
Yuuri took a moment to simply stand inside, looking around, acquainting himself with the space. Long shafts of moonlight fell along the floor, offering just enough of a faint light to make out everything but the finest details. Without the urns and the people, it was much more peaceful, and it seemed smaller. More comfortable. It wasn't intimate by any means, but it was closer than before. Against the wall of glass panes, a desk was set up with a regal chair behind it. Likely for the judge.    
  
Yuuri had heard it was one of the Nikiforovs who played the part of judge. Worrying as it was, it was also something of a relief. They would be impossible to please, regardless, and if it was true, it would explain the sharp tongue that had left so many others crying as they left. Royalty was always rude, wasn't it? It seemed like tradition.    
  
Yuuri moved through the paces, keeping a lid on the magic for the moment. It was enough to hear the music in the motions, feel the beat in the pulsing of his heart. For the first time since coming here, Yuuri started to feel fully relaxed.    
  
He ran it through once, twice, and then a third time with more flourish. His movements became more subdued, and the little flashes of personality began to slip out.    
  
He switched to a different dance, one he'd created with Yuuko, never pausing in his movements as the tempo changed into something faster, more thrilling. He dipped his fingers into the pouch he'd brought along. The powder coated the pads of his fingertips. He rubbed it into his palms until they glowed.    
  
He let the magic well up inside of him, twisting his lips up as he sang under his breath. Four balls of light swirled to life under his fingers, and as he moved his arms, twisting and turning under the throes of the dance, so too did the lights. The globes had the quality of floating tea lights. Color splayed across the walls, and still Yuuri hummed, keeping the memory of the song alive in soft notes as he twirled, dipped, stepped and leapt.    
  
He moved faster and faster, letting the lights extinguish in their natural time before bringing them back in new shapes, glittering iridescently in the dark. He was laughing now, spinning and jumping. The cloak flared beautifully out behind him, the edges held loose in his fingers and swirling with the speed of his movements.    
  
He watched the spray of colors move over the walls as he stepped back, then forward. His steps were turning in the suggestion of a waltz, inviting an unseen guest to join, before he was spiraling away, abandoning his partner and leaning into an arabesque.    
  


The chase, Minako said when she'd seen it. A tease, a taunt. It drew the eye with light and kept it pinned throughout the dance. It was just a simple switch of steps, turning between styles in one of their games. Yuuri lived for the feel of the motions through his body, the pulse of the magic like his own blood. 

  
Motion through the gloom caught his eye, and he tumbled to a stop, the moment ruined, eyes locked on the door. Someone stood inside the doorway.    
  
Yuuri let out an undignified squeak. "I'm so sorry, I know I probably shouldn't be in here, I just-"   
  
"You haven't auditioned yet," a voice interrupted.    
  
"Huh?" Yuuri said. The man stepped fully inside, and Yuuri squinted. With a flick of his fingers, the lights swirled to attention behind him, bathing the new arrival in dim light. The man stepped inside, his step feather-light as a dancer's.    
  
"You're a performer, right?" the man asked.    
  
Yuuri guardedly nodded. "How long were you watching?"   
  
"Only a minute or two."   
  
The man was tall, taller than Yuuri, but built for grace and elegance. The stature suggested something elfin, and the pointed ears seemed to agree, but the man's height and the shape of his face seemed plainly human. His hair was long and beautiful and silver. It seemed to shine under the lights, and yet, all too quickly, the lights died once more.    
  
" _ Silme, _ " Yuuri sang softly, twisting his arms in a graceful motion around him. The four lights flared to life again.    
  
"They don't last long, do they?" the man said. He stepped further into the room, and Yuuri found himself shying back. "Don't be scared." The man held out his fingers, and green fire erupted from his palm, dying almost as quick. He had an impish grin on his face. "I can do it too. Kind of."   
  
Yuuri kept the surprise deep inside him. "Who are you?" he asked, trying to keep his tone polite and inquisitive. He hadn't seen the man around, and Yuuri was certain he would have noticed a magic user like this.    
  
The man laughed lightly, closing the door to the sparring room. "You mean you don't know the stories?"   
  
"What stories?" Yuuri asked. He found his eyes narrowing, and the lights shuddered a little bit.    
  
The man waved dismissively. "It's nothing. Just fairy stories. Call me Victor. And you are?"   
  
"Yuuri."   
  
"Hello, Yuuri," Victor said. His eyes glittered in the light, gleaming with something like hunger. The light caught in them reminded Yuuri of a cat's, reflective and almost glowing. Scratches at the door caught Yuuri's attention, and he looked back at the closed door.    
  
Victor's whole expression seemed to change. "Oops, I forgot." Whining started up outside, and Victor hurried to open the door. A large dog came bounding inside, fur a curling pale brown. It stormed right past Victor, circling around Yuuri, and settled back at Victor's side with a satisfied 'woof'.    
  
"A dog...?" Yuuri said.    
  
"Don't worry, Makkachin's very polite. Quite the lady," Victor laughed, scruffing the dog behind the ears. "You are auditioning, aren't you?" he said, looking back up again with those glowing blue eyes.    
  
He looked human, he looked very human, but the touch of fey in him was so distracting. Yuuri shook himself.    
  
"I am. I go tomorrow, but... I couldn't sleep," Yuuri confessed. His eyes widened in horror as a thought occurred to him. "Oh no. I hope I don't get disqualified for this. I know I should have stayed put in my room but I just couldn't sleep and-" Yuuri broke off. "Oh, well, how did you find me in here?"   
  
Victor smiled. "I couldn't sleep either. This used to be a sparring room, once upon a time. I had hoped to get a little practice in."   
  
"You didn't bring a sword."   
  
"And you're in nightclothes," Victor said. Yuuri immediately yanked his cloak around him. "Just while we're stating the obvious. I have many secrets. And so, it seems, do you?" Victor gestured to the air, and the lights sparked out. Yuuri brought them back.    
  
"Sixty seconds on those. Have anything more permanent?"   
  
Yuuri shook his head. "Sixty seconds. It's all I've got. But I can move them wherever I want, and as long as I've got some phosphorus on my fingers, I can cast it as many times as I need." Yuuri moved them in lazy spirals to demonstrate. His hands had a soft turquoise glow to them from where he'd dipped them in his sachet of phosphorus powder.    
  
It took the motions of his entire upper body to compel the magic exactly how he wanted it. He turned slowly, letting them whirl around him in a languid dance.    
  
Makkachin watched them, and on an impulse, Yuuri made one whizz past the dog's face. The chase was immediate, as Makkachin pursued the orb of light around the room, claws scrabbling eagerly across the floor.    
  
Both of them were laughing.    
  
Finally, Victor sighed. "So, why couldn't you sleep?"   
  
"I..." Yuuri hesitated. "I was nervous. I still am. I feel like I'm going to mess up tomorrow."   
  
"You won't."   
  
"You sound so confident about that. I'm a walking disaster," Yuuri scoffed, hanging his head.    
  
"Magic isn't easy to use. Anyone who can wield it is instantly that much more impressive, in my book," Victor said, and he winked. Yuuri flushed all sorts of horrible colors. It was a small wonder the lights didn't extinguish early.    
  
"I- I mean-," Yuuri stammered.    
  
"And if you dance like you just did, well, you'll certainly attract attention. In a good way," Victor added. His grin got a little wider. "Yuuri."   
  
"But... what if it blows up in my face? I heard one of the Nikiforovs is the judge. What if he hates it? What if I... what if something goes wrong? Or worse, what if-"   
  
"All of these 'what if's. So negative. I may not know so much about dancing, but if it's anything like fighting, then I should tell you that stressing about it will only make it worse. You must lose yourself in that moment, let all of your focus be on one opponent at a time. If that opponent is the one judging you, well..." Victor laughed. "I'm certain everyone has a weak spot."   
  
"Even a Nikiforov?" Yuuri whispered.    
  
"Especially those pesky Nikiforovs," Victor whispered. His grin, once something calm and reserved, had changed. It was radiant in the low light, shaped almost like a heart as he laughed.    
  
"Thank you," Yuuri said gently.    
  
"No, thank you. This little talk was refreshing." Yuuri gave him a baffled look. "I'm serious! You must think I'm lying."   
  
"You must be."   
  
"Head on back to your room, Áre," Victor said lightly.    
  
Yuuri's blush deepened. "You know what that word means, right?"   
  
Victor nodded. "Elven for sunlight. I'm aware. Your laugh is like sunshine and your smile is radiant. I did it on purpose."   
  
Yuuri wheezed. "I wouldn't say that-"   
  
"I would," Victor replied in a singsong voice. "Now, as much as I like talking to you, you're up very much past your bedtime, and you've got a very important competition to get to tomorrow. You don't want to be late, now, do you? You should get some sleep."   
  
Yuuri walked towards the door, pausing with a hand on the knob. "What about you?"   
  
"As scintillating as this conversation was, I don't think I will get to sleep so easily. I plan on tiring myself out a bit in here. Goodnight, áre."   
  
"Goodnight... Victor."   
  
Yuuri closed the door behind him, feeling a little giddy. Praise was always something Yuuri found hard to believe. But the soft compliments were so piercing, and the blue-eyed gaze so dizzying, Yuuri found himself lost in the words.    
  
He held himself outside the door for a minute, just trying to steady himself enough to walk back to his room.    
  
He hesitated, then tried to peek back through the door as quietly as he could.    
  
Victor had his back to the door, hair flowing freely down his back, arm extended in a pose that seemed right out of a fight to the death. In his right hand, he held a long, silvery sword that he definitely did not have before. The edge of it glittered blue and white with arcane sparks, and its path through the air trailed snowflakes behind it. 

To sheath a sword like that would have been to do a disservice to whatever godly craftsman forged that blade. Yuuri didn’t know the first thing about swords, and even he could see that at a glance. There was no way Victor had been carrying it with him. 

Victor didn't even turn his head. "Áre," he said simply, not moving from his pose. Yuuri closed the door and departed, heart hammering in his chest. His mind whirled with questions, trying to make sense of what had just occurred.  One question seemed to rise above the others. Above wondering who Victor was, why he would help, and how he'd learned to create those green flames.

Victor had been lying. He had to be. There was no way that Victor could truly think any of those things. So that begged the question: how could anyone have been that good of a liar, to say all of those things with such a straight face that even Yuuri himself couldn't pick out the tell? Either Yuuri wasn't as good at spotting a lie as he thought (very likely, although Yuuri liked to think it was the one thing he was good at), or Victor was telling the truth.

Yuuri didn't know which was worse. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I want Victor to be smooth af and seduce Yuuri like it's nothing, and then other times I just want him to act like a complete dork. Reconciling this problem is proving more challenging than I initially expected...


	5. The Pet Project

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri shows off his moves. Victor has plans.

The morning of the sixth day was bitterly cold, and Yuuri was forced to forgo his run to the weather. Not a great start.  
  
He dressed again in his costume, feeling the pull of black fabric over his skin. Minako's choice. It was tighter than Yuuri liked, but the dread that it would stop fitting kept him from eating too many katsudon bowls when he was in Hasetsu, and Minako knew it.  
  
Yuuri was glad the comfort food was not around the castle, or he would not have been able to squeeze into the black, bejeweled bodysuit. He might have been calm last night, but the panic was edging in again.  
  
Two guards dressed in identical silver and black livery waited on either side of the door to the sparring room. They allowed him inside.  
  
It was hard to see without his spectacles, but Minako didn't like the way he looked with them on, and she would always pluck them from his face before he danced. His hair was pushed back from his forehead. Another guard waited inside beside the desk, but there was no sign of the judge.  
  
"Um..." Yuuri muttered, looking around.  
  
"His Highness, fourth prince of Corrusva, is running late," the guard said stiffly.  
  
"Late?" Yuuri repeated.  
  
"Deepest apologies, honored guest. A man has already been sent to find him. If you would like to take this time to warm up, please feel free to make use of the space."  
  
Yuuri nodded. He'd already warmed up before coming in, so he settled for a few easy stretches to keep his muscles limber and warm. He was practicing his turns when the door opened with a slam and the barking of a large dog.  
  
Even without his spectacles, Yuuri could see well enough the mess of silver and black that rushed into the room, looking for all the world like he'd rolled out of bed ten minutes ago. Trailing behind him was a brown blur that tackled Yuuri to the ground.  
  
"Ahh, ahaha," Yuuri started to laugh as the dog licked his face. The silver man swept close, hauling the dog off of him.  
  
"I'm sorry, she's usually very well behaved, I- wait. Áre?"  
  
Yuuri blinked up, and his blood ran cold. Yuuri could recognize that fall of silvery hair, the soft tone. If nothing else, the nickname alone was enough to make Yuuri freeze instantly in place.  
  
"V-Victor?" Yuuri gasped. He scrambled backward along the floor. "Victor, as in... wait, Victor Nikiforov? _Prince Victor_ ?"  
  
A grin split Victor's face. "You're the first one today? My deepest apologies for being late. It seems I stayed up a bit later than I planned. Must have been kept awake by thoughts of you~"  
  
Yuuri flushed bright red, and Victor laughed. Yuuri dropped to his hands and knees, resting his forehead on the backs of his hands.  
  
"I'm so sorry, you must have thought I was horrible, I didn't recognize you and-"  
  
"Oh! I've heard stories of dogeza, but this is my first time witnessing it! None of that, now. It was refreshing. On your feet. I must see an official audition. It won't be fair to let you pass without you showing me again." A hand stroked Yuuri's cheek.  
  
Yuuri glanced up, and paled. Victor was on one knee, leaning in close. From here, Yuuri could see the smile on his face, the half-lidded eyes.  
  
"You- I mean-" Yuuri sputtered. The prince was on his knees. Victor grabbed his hands and pulled him up to a standing position.  
  
"Do you need music? I think not, you make it well enough with just your body alone, but we have instrumentalists if you'd like accompaniment-"  
  
"It's fine," Yuuri gasped. "I- I can do it alone. I mean, I can do this. My instructor p-plays for me if I need it, but she's outside still. She can come in if she needs to?"  
  
Victor shook his head, sweeping away and settling behind the desk.  
  
"Not necessary. Minako Okukawa, correct? I've heard legends of her talent. If you are her pupil, as these papers suggest." Victor ruffled a few documents.    
  
Yuuri nodded. "O- okay. I'll just...  
  
Yuuri stepped back to the middle of the room. He was shaking. He started into the first movement, when-  
  
"No, no, no," Victor muttered. "That's all wrong. You're so stiff. Dance like you did last night. It was so freeing to watch. This looks like a puppet with steel wire for strings."  
  
The comment cut like a knife. "Sorry," Yuuri whispered. "I'll do better."  
  
Victor sagged onto the desk, resting his chin on his fist. "You were so talented last night. What happened?"  
  
"I- I told you, I'm a mess, I- I can't do anything right and I..." Yuuri's shoulders hitched. He wasn't going to cry. Not here. Not in front of the gods-damned fourth prince of Corrusva. He bit his lip and held it back.  
  
Victor hummed, cocking his head. In the morning light streaming through the windows, his eyes seemed normal. Gone was the cat-like reflective quality, and in its place were eyes that, while no less dazzling in their own right, were significantly more normal.  
  
"Yuuri, what were you thinking about last night? When you danced so prettily for me?"  
  
"That was a different dance," Yuuri ground out, barely breathing now. "That was just... messing around."  
  
"What makes this different?" Victor said.  
  
"You're, I mean, you're Prince Victor Nikiforov." Victor looked supremely unimpressed by this answer. Yuuri bowed his head. "I'm sorry. That's the wrong thing to say."  
  
Yuuri closed his eyes and tried to steady himself. What made this different? Aside from the fact that Victor was four convenient accidents away from being in charge of a country that was larger than Yuuri's by several orders of magnitude, that the inhumanly beautiful Victor had been flirting with Yuuri, and most of all, that Yuuri thought he'd been alone.  
  
He closed his eyes.  
  
"I know you can do it," Victor said. "Would you please show me?"  
  
Yuuri was shaking. He couldn't help it. Victor was suddenly close again, tilting Yuuri's chin up, his eyes locked onto Yuuri's.  
  
"Áre~?" Victor said lightly, smiling that stiff smile again.  
  
"I can do it," Yuuri whispered. "Just... don't say anything. Not until it's done."  
  
"Understood," Victor said.  
  
Yuuri stepped back into position, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. He could feel the weight of the guard's stares, the impropriety of the exchange.  
  
Did fourth princes get to act differently from other princes?  
  
Yuuri remembered a story from long ago. It had seemed like a fairy tale at the time. It was a fairy tale. Yuuri wasn't even certain why he thought of it now, except perhaps because the prince's odd hair color had reminded him.  
  
Once upon a time, in a kingdom far away, there was a boy with ink black hair and eyes like the noonday sky. Charming and precocious, he was beloved by all. Then, on the day of the Winter Solstice, the boy vanished. The kingdom searched high and low, but no one could not find him. It was as though he vanished. A year passed. And, like nothing had happened, the boy returned. It was like time moved forward a year without him.  
  
The only change was that the boy's hair had turned from black to white, as pale as the silver on his family's crest.  
  
No one knew where he had gone, but Yuuri's mother had her ideas. "Some say the fairies took him and kept the boy as a pet, until he escaped." Yuuri had doubts. Stories involving fairies rarely ended so well.  
  
They were tricky creatures. Even good fairies were strangers to mortal concepts of morality and goodness. Many were cruel and malicious, others were greedy, and still others were simply curious. They loved bargains and deals and most would honor a promise until the end of time. Usually the literal promise. How they interpreted it was another thing entirely.  
  
Some could not lie, but found ways of spreading deceit though half-truths and withheld information.  
  
Fairies were not stupid creatures.  
  
Yuuri wasn't a stupid creature either.  
  
Victor wanted something from him. It was obvious, although what a prince would want was lost to Yuuri. Princes, like fey, operated on another level. Their desires went beyond material wants. That was left to common folk like Yuuri.  
  
But it didn't matter. Because Yuuri wanted something from Victor, too, and there was only one way Yuuri was going to get that.  
  
Yuuri steadied himself. Victor had said it himself, didn't he? Every opponent had a weak spot. Even a Nikiforov.  
  
Yuuri didn't know Victor's, but the objective was clear enough. If he could impress Victor, he could move on, and he would be successful.  
  
If he could keep from messing up, this wouldn't be defeat.  
  
He pretended he was alone. He could hear the weak strains of violins in his ears, the soft plucking of a lute, and the soundless music in his head was so clear.  
  
He relaxed into the first motion. Stiff, still, but better. His sleeves had two new decorations. On the left, a small chip of white rock. On the right, he'd stitched on a bead of niter, sulfur, and pine tar. So small, they were almost unnoticeable, but necessary all the same. The turquoise phosphorus was on his fingertips again. Yuuri gazed around the room one last time, glazing over Victor.  
  
The ceiling was tall enough that it wouldn't be damaged. It was Yuuri's last concern. The dance began.  
  
Forgetting Victor was impossible. Yuuri realized this within the first few steps. But it suddenly didn't matter. Victor didn't have to be an obstacle. He could be a focus, something to center himself on. Yuuri didn't need to impress a sea of a hundred people. He only needed to look good to one. Somehow, he'd done it once before, and he might just be able to do it again.  
  
The steps were like a long-forgotten dream brought to the front of his mind at last. He sang under his breath, words of beautiful elvish that drew the magic in, and the movements of his body that gathered it and shaped it and gave it life. Six tiny meteors sprang to life around him, orbiting around his head like celestial bodies. Yuuri moved, and so did they, letting the push and pull of the intricate steps bring them within a hair's breadth of his skin.  
  
The dance was suggestive of the movement of the stars, foretelling a love that would shape the fate of the entire world. Star crossed lovers meeting in the light of a moon, stealing kisses behind closed doors, whispering promises of forever.  
  
Destiny shaped them, the pair beloved by the gods themselves. But a greedy outsider wanted it for himself. He conspired against the lovers, and he tore the two apart. The gods themselves began to quarrel about what to do. It was not their ways to meddle in the affairs of mortals. But they desperately wanted to fix this injustice that had been caused.  
  
In the chaos, an archfey took notice of the conflict. She was a selfish creature, and could see the gain from the death of the outsider. She visited one of the lovers and made a deal with him. He used the power she gave him and took revenge on the outsider, reuniting with his beloved. But she would not have him now that his hands were soiled by murder.  
  
In the lover's grief, he killed them both, and the gods were too late to do anything about it. And so they took the lovers, reconciled them, and spread them out in the sky as stars themselves, forever moving around one another in the sky in an eternal dance.  
  
With flicks of his fingers, Yuuri sent the meteors arcing away from him, exploding in open air with dazzling lights and sharp booms. The guards grabbed for swords, but Victor never moved from his seat, only leaned forward and watched with intrigue in his eyes. Yuuri finished his dance with his arms splayed in the air, suggestive of an entire sea of stars in the sky. He summoned the dancing lights back once more, now combined into a person-sized form behind him that he used to create a corona of light at his back, arms spread like fairy's wings.  
  
Yuuri was gasping for air.  
  
Victor leaned back, his fingers steepled under his chin. A smile twitched onto his lips.  
  
"Áre," he breathed. "You were holding out on me."  
  
Yuuri fell to his knees, breathing heavily. He glanced around the room, finally remembering where he was. The guards were tense, hands still resting on their weapons.  
  
Victor waved his hands. "Now now, I'm more than capable of protecting myself. Johannes, have your man stand down."  
  
A terse order was issued. The men moved their hands away from their weapons, but did not fully relax.  
  
"Sorry, I should have warned you. They can be dangerous, but I try to be careful about where I discharge them," Yuuri said.  
  
Victor had a mischievous look in his eyes. "I think they're wonderful. How many can you maintain at once? What is your max?"  
  
"T-ten," Yuuri said, looking surprised. "If it isn't at once, I could maybe do..." He counted on his fingers. "60 in one day, but I'd be completely exhausted."  
  
Victor whistled. "Your stamina is impressive. Do you only dance?"  
  
"Oh, my training!" Yuuri shuddered, ashamed he almost forgot.  
  
Minako had made him repeat his education with her until it was rote memory, and also until he no longer added any comments that might 'downplay his abilities', as she called it. He rattled it off before embarrassment could silence his tongue.  
  
"I've been educated in multiple styles of dance, the flute and the lute, a bit of acting, tumbling, and I can sing."  
  
"And the magic?" Victor asked, eyebrows lifting.  
  
Yuuri glanced at the ground. "O-oh, that, I- I'm okay at it, I guess. But it's-"  
  
"Amazing, simply amazing," Victor cut him off. Yuuri could only stare as Victor lifted out of the chair, walking closer with a swing to his step. He shook Yuuri's hand exuberantly. "I'm afraid we're short on time, the next appointment is running over, but please, do me the honor of meeting with me when I'm finished here today. I have a few matters I wish to discuss with you."  
  
"Well, um, okay," Yuuri managed. He couldn't breathe. His eyes were the size of tea saucers and he simply could not believe what was happening. "S-sure."  
  
Victor seemed to glow.  
  
Yuuri stumbled out of the room, shocked. A grumbling elf stalked past him through the double doors, muttering something about humans and tedium. Yuuri turned to Minako, who waited against the wall. His face was slack, terrifyingly expressionless.  
  
"How did it go?" she asked. Yuuri didn't know what to feel or even what to say. "Yuuri, did you-"  
  
"He liked it," Yuuri said.  
  
She paused, shooting him a quizzical look.  
  
"He really liked it. For some reason." Yuuri didn't mention what had happened last night. Now it seemed somehow worse to bring it up, given that he'd made a fool of himself in front of the prince. Minako embraced him, grinning from ear to ear.  
  
"Yuuri, that's great! Of course he loved it, you're brilliant-"  
  
"He wanted to meet with me later."  
  
"And who wouldn't- wait." Minako took a step back. "Hold on, what did you say?"  
  
"He had something he wanted to talk to me about. And... also, he kept calling me áre."  
  
Minako frowned. "He did what now?" she said, incredulous. "You have to meet him. You can't let an opportunity like this pass you by. Come on, let's get you fixed up, you can't wear your costume to meet him. When did he want you to talk? Where?"  
  
"Here, after he's finished. I don't know why, though." Minako hummed, suspicious. She tugged him along, leading them back down the hall. Guards watched him pass with suspicious eyes. The explosions must have made them uneasy.    
  
Yuuri smiled. "Minako. I did it. I made it through."  
  
"I'm proud of you, kiddo. But it's only just getting started. About seventy five to a hundred people are supposed to make it through this round, before getting narrowed down to fifty. You've got one more show to put on before you're in the clear."  
  
Yuuri winced. "Thanks for reminding me."  
  
"Don't mention it. Now let's see if we can wash you off, you smell of sweat and gunpowder." Yuuri grimaced and was led to his room, bathing and dressing in his nicest clothing.  
  
Minako didn't approve, but there was little she could do on short notice. "If you make it through the next round, you'll remain here until the wedding, and if that's the case, you'll need new clothing. What you've got now is not fine enough for court life."  
  
Minako was scribbling in a notebook as she spoke, thinking things through aloud.  
  
"You'll dress in your costume for the performance, but there is a chance that, with the wedding lasting several days, you won't need to be performing every day. With fifty entertainers, it's hard to say what their plans will be."  
  
Yuuri nodded with a groan. "I know. I was kind of hoping I wouldn't have to visit a tailor's."  
  
"Nothing for it. If you've impressed one Nikiforov, odds are you can impress the others. Even if the one is the odd one out."  
  
"What do you mean?" Yuuri asked. He toweled his wet hair, hoping it would stop dripping onto the collar of his nicest tunic.  
  
Minako pushed his hair back. "Let it dry like that. And Victor is... different from his siblings. You've heard the stories. No one can really explain why his hair looks different now, but I always did think something dangerous changed him in that year he was away."  
  
"Wait, the boy who went missing all those years ago, that was Victor?" Yuuri asked.  
  
Minako nodded. "They don't talk about it often, and the family is content to let it fade into legend, but it's true." She grinned impishly. "They say he never talks about it, but most people think he remembers fully well what happened. Maybe you can find out the truth."  
  
"If he doesn't tell his friends, he won't tell me," Yuuri scoffed. "And don't say crazy things like that. I don't know what he wants from me. It isn't as though I can do anything until I know why he wanted to speak with me."  
  
"You're very attractive, Yuuri, and you don't wear a ring. It's possible Victor's interests run... parallel to yours?" Minako suggested.  
  
Yuuri squeaked. "Absolutely not. I don't care how odd a prince he is. No prince would ever, in a million years, wish to lay with a simple little villager from the Saga mountains, and especially not me!"  
  
"You're blushing," Minako teased. "Ah, but, of course, you're quite right. If he tries anything, best to be suspicious. Regardless of which head he's thinking with, there's nothing you gain from sleeping with him that you cannot get otherwise."  
  
Yuuri's eyes fluttered tiredly. "I am aware. I don't wish that anyway. Even if he is inhumanly attractive. Is he fully human? He can't be. His features remind me of yours."  
  
"There are rumors that his birth was... not of both the King and Queen. None of the rumors quite agree, but, well, he does appear to have a bit of elf in him, doesn't he?" Minako said. "He's treated like a full blooded member of his family in public, so who's to say what opinions are behind closed doors?"  
  
Yuuri nodded. He stretched and grabbed for his lute, plucking at the strings a few times to check the tuning. He wasn't as good with the instrument as he was with dance, but Minako promoted a well-rounded education. It was either the lute or the shawm, and Yuuri had at least some dignity.  
  
Yuuri felt emotionally drained. Maybe after lunch, he could see if it was warm enough for him to jog, as lazing around the castle left his body feeling soft and useless. And hopefully, if Yuuri was able to, he could distract himself from the meeting that would take place in only a few hours.  
  
Yuuri groaned. Out of one stressful ordeal and right into another. 

* * *

Chris joined Victor for lunch, which was nice because Victor wasn't actually certain he'd be allowed lunch, given how late he'd been this morning. Once mother had heard, she'd scolded him for half the time he'd been given, until Chris had arrived with a few trays and his usual grin.  
  
"Afternoon, my queen," Chris said, bowing. "You're as lovely as ever, I must say. What has Victor done now to attract your no-doubt well-deserved ire?"  
  
Victor's mother massaged her temples, glared at the both of them, and sighed as only a mother could. "Please, Victor. Just, for the rest of the day, please, no more incidents."  
  
"Of course, mother," Victor said with a winning smile.  
  
She looked at him sharply. "I'm serious. Nothing at all. And was it necessary to make so many of them cry?"  
  
"I will not soften my critiques. Honesty is a virtue, you've said it many times." Victor chuckled.  
  
"Speaking the truth and speaking your mind are two entirely different things, especially from a child as rude as you, dear."  
  
"Love you too, mother," Victor said.  
  
Chris was smiling pleasantly as if he wasn't hearing anything. The queen pointed at Victor as she started to turn. "Soften your tongue. No more trouble."  
  
She pointed at Chris. "Don't let him mess this wedding up. I won't have him embarrassing our family."  
  
"Yes, my queen," Chris said dutifully.  
  
"Goodbye, mother," Victor called.  
  
"Goodbye, son," she replied, disappearing out the double doors with a sweep of her heavily embroidered skirts and a flip of her flaxen hair.  
  
"What did you do?" Chris asked as she left, leaning close to whisper in Victor's ear.  
  
Victor laughed. "I may have stayed up most of the night in here fighting the air, and found myself running a bit late this morning."  
  
"How late?" Chris asked. He wagged his  eyebrows as he removed lids from the platters.  
  
Victor grinned at the spread. "Late enough that I almost missed the most interesting little danseur this morning."  
  
"Hmm? Oh really? How do you define interesting? My way, or yours?"  
  
Victor spoke between mouthfuls.  
  
"He was good, but I think his talents may go beyond dancing. If I'm right, he might be just the person I'm looking for to replace Michele and Sara."

The two had been told to return home for an important family meeting, and the Crispinos were too tightly knit a family to ignore a direct summons from their father. When they'd return was anyone's guess. Much as it directly inconvenienced Victor to have then gone, he couldn't begrudge them the absence.

"A dancer." Chris looked at him as though he'd gone mad, and maybe Victor had.  
  
He laughed delightedly. "Yes, a dancer. More than that. He conjured half a dozen meteors around his head with nothing but a song and dance and made them bend to his will as if it was nothing. Then he blew them up and had half the guard ready to attack!" Victor was laughing again.  
  
"Is it safe to bring him? Can he be trusted?"  
  
"I haven't determined that yet. You can come along to our meeting if you like, he should be visiting again after I'm finished here. I'll ask him to dance for you. He's lovely." Victor hummed around another bite.  
  
"You're not falling for him, are you?" Chris teased.  
  
Victor smiled. "Ah, Chris. If only, if only. If I had but the capacity to love, he'd be a choice companion. So flexible. So... passionate. But timid as a fawn, Chris. He'd turn into a blushing mess before I so much as touched him. I think he may be untouched."  
  
"Poor virginal babe," Chris cooed. "Now I really want to meet him. I'll drop by early enough to say hello. If this goes well, should I inform the others?"  
  
Victor nodded. "In fact, tell them now. Mila will be thrilled and Georgi needs a distraction, the sentimental sap. I'm hoping for a time between the day I make the final cut and my brother's wedding. We can pick that out later. Shouldn't take more than a week to get there and back. But that's if my little áre doesn't have any surprises for me."  
  
Chris sat back, studying Victor closely.  
  
"There's something else."  
  
"Why would you say that?" Victor asked.  
  
Chris kissed his teeth, frowning. "You don't hide things from me, usually. What's different?"  
  
"It's nothing," Victor said, flicking his fingers dismissively through the air. "I haven't hidden anything."  
  
Chris stared at him for a long time, and Victor managed to finish off the last of his meal before anything changed. Chris sighed. "If you're certain."  
  
"I am," Victor said. A knock signaled the arrival of the next performer, and Victor groaned. "Back to work."  
  
Chris hopped to his feet and gathered the trays. "I'll speak with Georgi and Mila. See you soon."  
  
"Goodbye, Chris!" Victor called. The next entertainer entered the room with marionettes under his arms. Victor buried a groan.  
  
None of them compared to Victor's áre. Yuuri was divinity personified. It baffled the mind to think something so close to physical perfection, objectively speaking, could be found in a man who considered himself a mess, who could barely face Victor to perform, and yet studied under one of the greatest danseurs in a thousand years.  
  
Victor was cursed to never feel the pull of attraction to another mortal creature. It didn't mean he couldn't recognize talent when he saw it.  
  
And Victor could see it, he could see the dazzling way Yuuri had danced and laughed and smiled, before the timid nature had him hiding behind blushes. There was something more there, Victor was certain. No one could tell a story like that and not have some deeper passion buried inside.  
  
Victor wanted, no, needed, to see it.  
  
"Have you ever seen an owlbear?" Victor said suddenly, interrupting the performance. It wasn't good. In fact, it was quite awful, like so many of these performances were.   
  
The puppeteer paused his show, shaking his head. "N-no, sir."  
  
"Your voice reminds me of the screeching, is all. My apologies. Continue."  

* * *

 Yuuri steadied himself. One last look in the mirror confirmed his hair was presentable, his face clean, his spectacles straight. He looked about as professional as he was going to get.  
  
It wasn't enough for meeting a prince, but the meeting was presented so informally that Yuuri could hold on to the hope that it wasn't improper to show up like this. The last performer had not yet finished when Yuuri arrived.  
  
He leaned against the wall. The two guards were expressionless and stiff, standing watch on either side of the doors. Neither acknowledged his existence beyond a cursory look of distrust.  
  
Yuuri sighed. His arms wrapped around himself, trying to steady his mind before going in. If he wasn't careful, he was going to start thinking again, and thinking was so dangerous when your mind could create fireballs out of thin air...  
  
So maybe it hadn't happened yet. It was possible. Probably. Yuuri had accidentally caused them in other ways plenty of times before. This despite his inability to create them when he actually intended to.  
  
Yuuri groaned. "This was a mistake," he whispered.  
  
"Something the matter?" a soft voice purred beside him. Yuuri yelped and tumbled to the side, hitting the floor with a low whine. The man smiled, offering a hand to help Yuuri up. "My sincerest apologies." Yuuri accepted it gratefully.  
  
"No, it's fine. I should have paid closer attention," Yuuri said. "Nothing is the matter."  
  
"Waiting for Victor?" the man asked.  
  
He had the same fey look to him that Victor did. It wasn't as though the two were related, more like they shared a similar ethereal quality to their eyes, the pointed tips of their ears. Something of elfin blood within them, however remote.

The man in front of Yuuri had two-toned hair, longer on the top, and eyes that indecisively swapped between green and brown. The hazel was practically luminescent.  
  
Yuuri frowned. "How did you know?"  
  
"I know all," the man laughed. "Just kidding. I'm waiting for him too. I'm Christophe. Call me Chris."  
  
"Yuuri," he replied, shaking hands. "Are you a performer too, or...?" Yuuri trailed off, trying to place why the handsome man would be waiting beside Yuuri to speak with Victor.  
  
The door burst outward, and a costumed woman came streaking out of the room, sobbing.  
  
"Victor!" Chris admonished.  
  
"I was actually complimenting her!" Victor said weakly. "She just burst into tears!"  
  
Chris glanced back at the woman, who was well on her way down the hall now, the sounds of crying carrying far and beyond the room. Chris shook his head as he entered, although whether the look of scathing disappointment was a joke or not had yet to be determined.  
  
Yuuri had been there before. Many times. "It might not have been anything you said at all," Yuuri said softly.  
  
Both looked at him and Yuuri flushed, burying his face in the thin scarf he'd strung around his neck. The shaking started as soon as he realized the casual closeness of the two.  
  
"Oh no," Yuuri whispered. He started to bow his head in shame. "I messed up. I'm so sorry, I didn't realize you were someone so important, I didn't know you were friends with the prince, I-"  
  
Victor was laughing. "Áre, up and on your feet. I like you better when you're honest."  
  
"I- I am being honest," Yuuri broke out, but he slowly straightened up.  
  
Victor tapped his lips and hummed. "Walk with us, please?" he asked. Yuuri nodded wordlessly. Victor extended his elbows out to both, and Chris didn't hesitate to loop arms with the man. Victor looked expectantly toward Yuuri. "Well then?"  
  
Yuuri trembled, but finally took Victor's arm. "If... you're certain."  
  
Victor nodded, pleased. "Right to business, then," he said, leading them out of the room. They picked their way out of the sparring room and towards a winter garden as Victor spoke.  
  
The cold air hit Yuuri's face like a wall, but Victor never paused. He was all business now.  
  
"What I tell you now, Yuuri, I mention in the utmost confidence. It does not at all relate to your service to the castle or have any bearing on anyone's opinion of you. You can say no. I don't want anyone coming along who isn't fully aware of the risks and dangers and isn't fully committed to the objective."  
  
"You're scaring the boy," Chris said, and Victor flashed that signature smirk at Yuuri.  
  
"I'm not scary, am I?"  
  
Yes, was Yuuri's immediate thought. Victor was terrifying in the way that poisonous animals were. The beauty only seemed to enhance that feeling of danger.  
  
Yuuri shook his head stiffly. "No, please continue."  
  
Victor beamed. "See? He's fine."  
  
Despite his best efforts, Yuuri found his attention wandering from Victor. Each successive morning had been colder than the last, and the frosts were thicker and thicker, layering the grass with heavier coats of white. Outside the castle, where the city of trouper tents awaited, it was beautiful enough to see their flags stiff with glittering crystals.  
  
The garden was something else entirely.  
  
The jagged leaves of the rosebushes were laced in fine white, swirling over the deep greens and crimsons of the leaves and blooms. Columns held decorative marble structures in the air above benches carved to look like winter vines, and the icicles bristling the perimeters each contained a small bead of twinkling light.

Even the paths seemed to be made of glass, although it wasn't remotely slick underfoot. It caught Yuuri's eye and held it, keeping him spellbound by the sight. 

"Yuuri, are you even listening?" Victor asked. Yuuri startled back to the conversation, blinking rapidly.

"I'm sorry, what?" Yuuri asked, suddenly remembering the warmth of Victor's arm crooked around his own. "The garden was just so beautiful, I-"  
  
Yuuri broke off with an embarrassed flush as Victor sighed. "I'll start again. Yuuri, I've been looking for an individual with a particular skillset, and I think you're exactly what I need."  
  
"What can I even do?" Yuuri asked doubtfully.  
  
"I need another set of eyes, hands, and a bit of magic. About three days outside of the castle, there is a cave which has been taken over by a pack of beasts, and these beasts are destroying farms and livestock. What little intelligence we've gathered says that throwing men at them isn't working. We've lost three squads that we didn't have to. So I'm gathering a team and going in."  
  
"What do you expect me to do, dance for them?" Yuuri scoffed before he could even think about it.  
  
"Yes, actually," Victor said. "I was prepared to go with just a few handpicked, trustworthy people, but having you join my group means that our odds of everyone making it out unscathed increase dramatically. They're just wolves. I can't for the life of me understand why wolves have been ravaging the farmers' livestock this badly, nor why this is a problem that can't be taken care of through normal means, but there needs to be a stop to it."

"I'm sorry, but... I'm not a warrior," Yuuri said. "I- I'm just a dancer. I don't know what help I'd even be."

Victor hummed. "Well. That's too bad. I was willing to train you and everything. I guess you won't care about the reward, either."

Yuuri narrowed his eyes. For himself, rewards didn't matter. But if it was something he could send back to Hasetsu… "What do you mean, reward?

Chris laughed. "You don't go on missions for the crown without the promise of substantial reward, and you don't go on adventures with the prince without receiving a certain amount of acclaim," he said.

Chris waved his free hand through the air as he spoke, and the fur-lined cloak over his shoulders shifted with every sweeping gesture. "I promise that the rewards far outweigh the risks for something like this. They always do. Not always in material ways, but it is always worth it. Trust me on that."

Yuuri studied Chris. "You've done this before."

"Many times. Victor and I have gone on many of these adventures. We've traveled far beyond the borders of Corrusva, into new and fascinating lands. Danger and thrill and excitement around every turn."

"And do people die?" Yuuri asked pointedly.

Chris shrugged, a devil-may-care smile giving his answer.

"Very rarely, and not when I'm around," Victor said sharply. "You have my promise that you will return from this mission alive, unharmed, and ready to perform for the wedding. And anyway. It's just a few wolves." Victor smiled. A warm, fuzzy feeling crept through Yuuri. Victor's finger tapped once. "Please come along? It'll be great fun." His tone was so gentle, so charming. "What do you say, áre?" Two taps. Three, with just a second's pause between them.

Yuuri's eyes unfocused for just a moment, but it didn't matter. Victor seemed so trustworthy. Radiant, glorious. A prince like him wouldn't lie. Four taps. Five.

"Sure."

Yuuri's head cleared before the sixth tap. He glanced at Victor, giving his head a little shake to clear the strange fog.

"Thank you, Yuuri, this pleases me very much," Victor said lightly. Yuuri shivered, and Victor pulled him a little closer to his body. "Ah, you're cold. Let's go back in."

Yuuri nodded. Chris was all smiles, but his ears and cheeks were ruddy and his nose was pinked. Yuuri, for his part, could barely feel his fingers. "Aren't you cold?" Yuuri asked. Victor's pale face was barely reddened by the wind. He wasn't even wearing a cloak, having led them outside straight from the cozy sparring room.  
  
"I'm quite warm between two men as handsome as the two of you," Victor said.

Yuuri would have blushed if he wasn't already flushed from the cold. Chris glared at Victor, but Victor only hummed and brought them past the doors. There was an entire conversation in that look, but it was spelled out in a language Yuuri didn't speak.

The gardens had been empty, void of anyone who could have paid them any mind. Inside, however, there were many people walking about that watched them curiously from the corners of their eyes. Servants, guards, guests, anyone who might walk the corridors of the castle, simply watched as their prince passed them by, a well-groomed blond on one arm and a shabbily dressed stranger on the other.  
  
"I'll explain more when we get closer to time. Until then, maintain your usual schedule. I should send word within three days."

"Wait, Prince Victor," Yuuri said.

“Just call me Victor,” the Prince said. He looked positively impish. “Just the thought of it shortens my mother’s lifespan, but I do like a little healthy impropriety.” His mother. He meant the queen of the entire country of Corrusva. Yuuri was going to lose his head over this, he was starting to think. 

“Victor, then,” Yuuri hesitantly corrected. “Why… why me?”

“You have talent,” Victor said. “Potential. And if there's one thing I like, it's bringing out a person’s potential.”

Yuuri glanced at the floor, quiet. Victor hummed.

“Give it a chance. You’ll enjoy it. And also, one final thing. Don’t tell anyone about this. We’ve been keeping this quiet for a while. Word might eventually spread around the castle about the wolves, but I don’t want it getting out that I am going after them. If anyone asks after where we’re going, tell them it’s a hunt, and that you don’t know many details beyond that. No one will question it, as long as you mention it was my idea.”

A secret mission. Even better, Yuuri thought dryly. They were getting near Yuuri’s room, and he was starting to recognize the hallways as corridors he’d gotten lost down several times before.

“Isn’t it a bit strange to bring a no-name dancer on a hunt?” Yuuri asked.

Chris laughed beside them. “With Victor, everything seems a bit strange. They may look at you funny, but they won’t ask too many questions. Victor’s brought stranger companions to stranger venues before. They’ll be surprised, sure, but then, Victor is always surprising people. This will just be the latest of his little surprises. Which of these rooms is yours, Yuuri?”

“Down there, I think,” Yuuri said. “I’m not sure. They all look so alike. I walked into the wrong room last week and was nearly slapped by a singer.” He colored at the memory. Finally, Yuuri stopped, and the other two paused beside him. “This is my room.”

“Need someone to help you warm it up?” Chris purred, leaning back behind Victor to wag his eyebrows at Yuuri.

Yuuri shook his head with a bit more force than necessary. “No, no, no! That’s alright, I- I’m perfectly warm and-”

“I’m teasing, you, Yuuri,” Chris laughed. “Although, if you ever change your mind…”

Yuuri wriggled out of Victor’s grip and stumbled a few steps closer to his door. Victor laughed, and it lit up his face, making him seem inhumanly divine for a second. Yuuri’s chest clenched at the sight.  No mortal man had any right to be so handsome. It was unnatural, painful to see up close.

“Would you prefer if I assisted?” Victor said. Yuuri was certain he’d stopped breathing. “How cute. Have a nice evening, áre.” Victor and Chris both waved and walked off, arm in arm, leaving Yuuri alone by his door, shivering from the sudden swell of cold that seemed to be left behind by their departure.

Yuuri fumbled with his door, hands barely managing to work the knob. Less than a day knowing him, and Yuuri was certain of one thing: Prince Victor Nikiforov was going to be the death of him.

“I shouldn’t have done that, I shouldn’t have done that, I should NOT have done that,” Yuuri whimpered, pacing around his room. He yanked at his hair, gritting his teeth. “What was I thinking!?”

Yuuri wasn’t a warrior. He never even went hunting back in Hasetsu, on the rare opportunities that the chance presented itself.

Sure, Yuuri had seen hogs butchered before. But Yuuri hadn’t killed anything that wasn’t a fish or an insect before, unless you considered the old family dog that had passed from old age, and he didn’t know what he could do against wolves.

Yuuri could barely even control his magic. And as soon as they left the castle, Victor was certain to discover that Yuuri was much less useful than he looked. Potential. Yuuri wanted to laugh, if he wasn’t so horrified.

What would he even tell Minako?

He sat on the bed, glancing toward the enormous standing mirror against one wall. Yuuri hadn't even thought about. It just… seemed like such a great idea for that one moment, just that one second.

Victor had seemed so certain that everything would be okay. That there was no danger, that this would be simple. A hunt. Joined by Victor’s friends, if that wasn't a frightening enough concept.

Who did Victor even make friends with? Other nobility? What did that make Chris? Yuuri wanted to scream. And so he did, into his pillow, at the top of his lungs, until he ran out of air.

It wasn't too late to back out. Victor had even said it had no bearing on his performance. He wouldn't be judged if he didn't go along.

Except Yuuri knew he would be. This was a test of some sort. The reward had been to entice him in, and now that the trap was closed, Victor was ready to see Yuuri fail.

Yuuri clenched his hands into fists. No. Victor said everyone had a weak spot. Maybe this was Yuuri’s chance to find Victor’s. He needed something he could use to make sure that he didn't return home crying and empty handed, the way so many of the others did before him.

There was still one more round of eliminations, and then showtime. Yuuri would make his family proud. He would make Lord Asahi and all of Hasetsu proud.

And Victor, odd a prince though he may have been, was still a human, just the same as Yuuri.

A few wolves. Victor had faced armies. Yuuri could at least trust that they could take care of a few overgrown dogs. Stomach settling slightly at the thought, he headed towards Minako’s rooms.

The only question left was how much of the truth she needed to know.

* * *

Chris slammed Victor into the wall three corridors down from the room. “You did the thing,” he growled.

Victor smiled blandly. “What do you mean?”

“I felt it. You did that… that aura thing. Don't play dumb, Nikiforov. You might be a prince, but you're not my prince.” Chris’s hazel eyes flashed dangerously.

Victor sighed. He'd expected this, of course. Chris was far cleverer than most people gave him credit for. “He was at a tipping point and his self-confidence is a crumbling mess. I can't make anyone do anything they don't want to do. I can only nudge someone one way or another, and usually only if they're mostly there already.”

“That's crap and you know it,” Chris muttered. He let Victor up all the same. Victor cricked his neck one way and then the other, listening to the soft pops of the bones.

“It doesn't even work all the time,” Victor said. He offered his arm, but Chris refused it. Victor huffed and they walked at a distance. “Chris, I want to see him in action. Is that so wrong?”

“Why do you want to?” Chris asked.

Victor made an ‘oh’ sound. “Whoops. I forgot. I was going to have him dance for you. Oh well, I'll have to show you later. He's got so much potential. Grace, control, power. He just needs the attitude to back it up.”

“And to accomplish what?” Chris scowled.

Victor shrugged. “I can't have a project? You go whoring. I train pets. We all have have hobbies. Mine just happen to include making mercenaries out of pretty, foreign dancers.”

Chris rubbed his temples. “I swear, Victor, sometimes it's hard to keep up with you.”

Victor turned a little spin down the hall, laughing. “If everyone stayed exactly one step away from me at all times, it would be boring!”

Chris paused. “You've got other plans,” he realized.

Victor glanced over his shoulder. “And if I do have plans for him, which are entirely dependent on how the next few weeks go?” Victor asked coyly.

Chris groaned. “Ahh, Victor. Why can't you just be a stupid, horny bastard like every other noble for once in your life? Life would be so much simpler without all of your 'pet projects'.”

“Nothing is ever simple,” Victor said simply. “Now come on. I want to visit the kennels.”

They trudged off, headed for where the dogs were kept. Makkachin had been brought back there for food around mid afternoon and Victor wanted his loyal friend back by his side. She came to him at a whistle, loyal and obedient to a fault. Chris shivered in the cool air.

“You're too quiet,” Victor said.

“He's kind of cute, I'll admit. Not to my tastes, exactly. And I rather thought you didn't have tastes, so to speak. But this plan isn't going to work,” Chris said. “I don't care what your reputation might be. Anyone could take one look at that man and know he doesn't belong.”

It wasn't just the attitude. It was the clothes, the hair, the thin wire spectacles perched on his nose. He looked like peasantry, like a dirty little piglet fresh from a roll in the mud. Adorable, to be certain, but if he wanted to blend in with the rest of the court, they'd need to bring out his inner prince.

“I'll take care of it,” Victor said. “Unless… you'd like to help? No, even better.” He grinned. “I'll ask Mila. She loves a pet project almost as much as I do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahahah, so... I forgot to post this? Which kind of makes me the worst?
> 
> Anyway. BRING OUT MILA.


	6. Lessons and a Test

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri rolls a one, among other things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who's left kudos and comments! I'm still trying to get the hang of this website so thanks for sticking with me!

“A hunt,” Minako said. It was clear she didn't believe him for a moment. 

“I don't understand it either. But Prince Victor invited me along. I don't even know why I said yes,” Yuuri groaned.

“What would you even be hunting?” she asked. One of her eyebrows was slowly lifting. Yuuri marveled at the ability, but groaned at the execution.

He shrugged helplessly. “I don't know. It's supposed to happen before the wedding, that's all I know. He invited several people along, and I only met one, some friend of his named Chris.” Chris, who was every bit as strange and unusual as the prince himself.

Minako rubbed her face, pacing across the room with soft footsteps. Even after retiring from dance, she was still as graceful as ever, thoughtless and smooth. “This is not at all what I was expecting, to be honest. I don’t know what to make of it. If it was a private performance, I would have advised against it, but I would be supportive of you if that was what you wanted to do. But a hunt? There’s something political here, something I don’t understand, and I don’t know know what Victor’s motivation might be here.”

Yuuri nodded. “I asked. But… he just said he saw potential in me. And… I didn’t even think! Not even a little! It was just like, somehow, it seemed like such a great idea, and I said yes without even considering the offer. That isn’t like me, Minako!”

“It isn’t,” she agreed, studying his face. “Be careful, Yuuri. I don’t know what he’s doing, but it has me a little worried. Royal games are not things you should meddle with if you don't know what you're getting into. Court drama is messy. It ruins lives. There’s nothing like it in the world, but keeping up takes it out of you like nothing else. Please, Yuuri. Be careful.”

Yuuri nodded as solemnly as he could. “Don’t worry, I will.”

Minako patted him on the shoulder. “As long as you know that this isn’t easy. Honestly, Yuuri, it’s a thrill. Dealing with courts is exciting. But so exhausting, too. Don’t let it get to you, please. Stay for as long as it makes you happy. It is fun, but when it isn't fun anymore, don't hold yourself here. Especially when it's something as simple as a hunt.”

“You’ve been on hunts before, haven’t you?” Yuuri asked.

Minako nodded. She’d told stories of it before, but Yuuri never paid as close attention to the stories before now. As someone who frequented kings courts for hundreds of years before Yuuri was even born, it would have been strange for her not to have at least seen a few.

“You likely won't even get off your horse. When you're playing the role of courtesan, you're there to keep royals company.”

Yuuri bit his lip. The hunt excuse was seeming a bit flimsy now that they were talking about two entirely different things. He nodded, encouraging Minako to continue all the same.

“If the prince wishes you to accompany him, it usually means he wants a distraction from his usual duties. It's a lot of riding around and there isn't as much killing as you'd think. If there are any mages, they might preserve what little kills there are so the hunt can continue. But the primary goal usually isn't for food. It's a sport, through and through, a means of killing time more than killing beasts. Did he mention when this hunt was taking place?”

“Before the wedding. He seemed very insistent that I would be back before then, and that I wouldn't need to worry about missing it or being unable to perform.”

“Then use that to your advantage. If he's already certain you'll be dancing at the wedding, it means you can probably stop worrying about the cut off.

“Someone like him probably already knows who he wants to keep on and who he doesn't, and having everyone try out again is likely just a stalling tactic to ensure they get everyone they want. I've done this more times than I can count, and I know one thing pretty well by now. Once you reach a certain reputation, you stop having to try out. Spots are left vacant for you, in the hope that you deign to show up. Doors are left open on the off chance you'll step through them. When you're desired, the world will bend to your will. It's a powerful feeling. You're on the cusp of greatness Yuuri. This might be exactly what you need.”

“But I… Are you certain I can do this?” Yuuri asked quietly.

Minako nodded fiercely. “Yes, Yuuri, you can do all this and more. This is your ticket to the world in the palm of your hand. If you want it.”

Yuuri hummed, closing his eyes. He'd never wanted the world. Only a bit of control over his own life. But Victor… Victor was so in control. He had resources. There were legends about how powerful of a magic-wielder the man was, how skillful with a sword.

If Yuuri could befriend the prince, surely some of those resources would be slightly more within reach. Someone knowledgeable could take one look at Yuuri and explain what the matter was. Why his magic misfired so often when he wasn't dancing.

Yuuri could find answers.

“I want this.”

* * *

 

Yuuri was practicing in the chilly field not far from the trouper camp when a red-haired woman approached him. Chris’s arm was linked with hers. He heard the soft crunch of footsteps on the frozen grass, but he didn't turn to look until he'd finished the final pose, determined to make it through without being ruffled.

It was a different story, one he hadn't practiced as much, but Yuuri liked it well enough. It involved a lot of throwing magical snowballs around with impunity, dodging the ice that was getting hurled around, and moving the dancing lights through the storms. It was a story of hope. It was a theme that Minako had encouraged him to pursue. Yuuri found he rather enjoyed it, exhausting though it might have been.

The movements alternated between grace and brutality, and it was a challenging juxtaposition that Yuuri wasn't sure he had quite right yet. He was closer, lately, though.

“Wow, wow,” the woman said, smiling. She was younger than Yuuri, perhaps sixteen, and her eyes were the dark blue of an open ocean. “I can see why he picked you. You're such a little cutie!”

Yuuri let out an undignified noise. She was someone important, he could already tell.

After the mishap with Victor and Chris, Yuuri started to pay better attention to possible status. It took a bit of people watching, but it started to become easier to identify a person’s class within the castle. Most of the guards wore identical suits of armor, and the livery of the servants was a very similar black and silver regardless of their job or position, making it easy enough. Guests, like most of the entertainers who were taking up resistance, wore a motley mix of everything from shameless rags to almost-nobleman’s garb, and a variety in between.

Courtesans, which Yuuri now assumed Chris to be, had on fine clothing suited to lazing around a castle all day entertaining lords and ladies. That was what they did. Probably. The job description wasn't exactly something Yuuri knew much about.

This girl who approached him now wore finely made robes which clung to her figure in a wash of dark fabric. Symmetrical cutouts showed a span of pale skin around her shoulders. The sleeves billowed past her fingertips, and she had a large assortment of pouches and pockets on her person. They all looked full. With what, it was hard to say, but whatever it was, she certainly had plenty. A thick gold chain hung around her neck, suspending a large, glittering ruby between her collarbones. It looked extremely valuable.

But it wasn't just the clothes. It wasn't the ornate twist of her hair into a fine bun, glittering with little chips of crystals.

It was the way her head was held up, her shoulders back, arm looped around Chris as though she belonged exactly wherever she wanted to be. And right now, it looked like that place was here, on this field, beside Yuuri.

“O-oh, hello!” Yuuri managed, voice a bit squeaky. “Chris.” He bowed his head at the man, who nodded in return. Yuuri bowed his head toward the woman. “Ah…”

“Mila Babacheva, of the Sorren Babachevas,” she said, extending her hand to him. Yuuri almost fell out of his dance pose. Minako had taught him this, he just hoped he didn't screw it up.

He bowed before her, a little shaky on the entry, and ghosted his lips an inch above her knuckles. “A- a pleasure to meet you. Call me Yuuri. Uh, Yuuri Katsuki.”

She laughed. Chris’s appraising look wasn't disgusted with him, so Yuuri must not have screwed it up too badly.  “Learning the ropes, huh, little Yuuri?” Chris said. “Good, that's good.”

“Anou… thank you, I guess,” Yuuri said. Mila brushed past Chris to put her arms on Yuuri’s shoulders, then plucked the glasses from his face. Yuuri sputtered weak protests that were tacitly ignored.

“Victor said pushed back, right?” she said, looking back at Chris. Without waiting for an answer, she was already slicking his sweat-soaked hair back from his forehead and giving him an appraising look. She plopped the frames back on his nose, and he straightened them out.

“What was that?” he asked.

“How poor is your vision without those?” she said, clucking her tongue.

“I can't see hardly at all without them,” Yuuri said. “Everything's a blur.”

“Shame. You've got such a cute face. Maybe the medica can fix his eyes.” As she spoke, her hands returned to Yuuri’s shoulders, patting, poking, and prodding his arms, his sides, anything she could reach. “Hold still,” she said with a pout.

“Hold on, I don't understand-”

“Ah ha! Looks like Victor was wrong for once!” she crowed victoriously. She finished her prodding and stepped back, smirking. She looked him up and down one last time and nodded. “Good figure, very nice, but softer than most dancers. Can you ride a horse?”

“I'm alright,” Yuuri answered, remembering the little gelding his family and a few others used for supply runs between villages. “Nothing too spirited, certainly, but I can stay on.”

“And can you wear armor?”

Yuuri winced. “I can, but it affects my movement so I won't if I don't have to. I have had to make do before.”

Mila grinned backwards at Chris. “He's so accommodating! And straight to the punch!” She looked back at Yuuri. “Is this what you've been wearing around the castle every day?”

It was one of his nicer shirts and a pair of trousers that hadn't been mended half a dozen times. Not bad, as far as his usual clothes went. “Usually. It's not much, but-”

“But nothing,” Mila said. “Come with us. We’ve got an appointment. Wash up, and be quick as you can. We’ve only got three hours. Chris, walk us to his rooms.” Chris chuckled softly, and the two grabbed Yuuri by the arms and began leading him off the field.

“W-wait, I was practicing for-”

“This is more important. Victor is going to pass you through anyway, and honestly I have to agree, but you can't keep wearing things like that around the castle,” Mila tutted. The news sailed over his head. 

“I was going to go to a tailor in a week or two-” Yuuri tried to say.

But the pair just kept moving, not letting him free. And that was how Yuuri was hurled into his room, told to, quote, hurry and wash up, and was then dragged back out to the opposite wing of the castle.

“Victor was so upset he couldn't tag along,” Mila said conversationally as they walked. “But his father was making him take care of something for the wedding and Victor can't get away. It's fine though, because he put me on the job, and there's no one more trustworthy for this than me.”

“I honestly don't understand what's happening right now,” Yuuri protested. Mila pushed him into a spacious room.

It was full of bolts of fabric leaning against the walls. Ribbons were strung from the ceiling like streamers, and wire-framed mannequins were half-dressed in the latest castle fashions. The nearest table was weighed down with all sorts of sewing accoutrements until no space remained: needles, spools of thread of every color, pin cushions bristling like shiny metal hedgehogs, scraps of shorn fabric, scissors, and things Yuuri couldn't identify at a glance, half-covered as it was by the detritus. It was chaos, but it had a homey feel.

A woman popped around the corner. “I was wondering where you two were,” she clucked. She was an older woman, frazzled and blonde with wisps escaping from her messy ponytail. Her eyes were bright behind thick spectacles. “This is what I'm to work with?”

“Do your magic,” Mila said. “I was thinking blues and blacks. Dark colors would set of his skin tone marvelously. Maybe a nice dark green as well?”

“Hmm, yes, yes,” the woman hummed. She circled Yuuri like a bird of prey, zeroing in on her target. “Strip, please, down to your smallclothes. I need measurements.”

“Yes ma'am,” Yuuri said, eyeing Mila and Chris from the side. Neither made a move. Mila might have winked.

“Come on, come on, nothing I haven't seen before,” the tailor said.

It wasn't so much the idea of nudity, but the self-consciousness that held him back. He pulled his tunic over his head slowly. Toed his boots off. Stepped out of his trousers.

Yuuri wasn't hard and narrow like most dancers for a variety of reasons, the least of which being how like his mother he was, and how easily he put on weight. It wasn't a problem in Hasetsu. Helpful, even, during leaner times, when he had a layer of plush to keep him warm when there just wasn't enough food to go around.

But the result of it meant his skin was marked by the lines of the stretch and shrink of his flesh, accommodating the ever-changing size of his waist. The softness showed in the width of his thighs, the curve of his back. It gave him a softer look, something androgynous that straddled the line between the solidly masculine and the solidly feminine. 

“I can work with this,” she simply said. Not a compliment or an insult. It simply was.

Cold fingers brushed Yuuri’s skin, and he recoiled. It was just a tape measure, he reminded himself. He'd been fitted before, for costumes, for a few of his nicer shirts. He forced himself to still, but it was hard to breathe all the same.

The marked tape wrapped around his arms, down the length of his limbs, the width of his chest, his torso. The measuring was quick and efficient, a cluck of her tongue between each measurement. She didn't appear to need to write it down. 

“Right. Hold still.” She turned her back and rummaged through the mess on the table, coming up with a quilted mess of fabric swatches of all different colors and materials. She laid it over Yuuri’s shoulder, eyeing the effect. “Definitely dark colors. A hint of red would be nice against the black, good with the eyes,” she said.

“Ooh, you're right,” Mila said. She thumbed one of the swatches, a dark, ruby red. She was standing too close and didn't even seem to notice or care. “This looks nice.”

“What does he need?” the tailor said.

Mila pulled notes from one of her many pockets. “Ehh, everything. I peeked at his wardrobe earlier. There isn't much in there." Yuuri thought he'd heard someone snooping in his room while he was in the bath. Now he was certain. "Just make him presentable, at least through winter. Victor will cover the cost. And he'll need something to wear for at least one day of the wedding. Maybe two. The scheduling isn't finalized.” Mila passed the notes over.

The tailor’s eyes took on a certain gleam of inspiration. “Well well. I can definitely work with this. Tell Prince Nikiforov that I'll bill him when it's finished.”

“He'll be glad to hear it.”

Yuuri finally caught on. “What- hold on,” he said. “I can't just let you buy me clothes-”

Chris patted his shoulder. “Yuuri, cutie, forgive me if I'm wrong, but I don't think you can afford this yourself. Just accept the gift. Consider it a… show of good faith.”

Good faith. In what, Yuuri wondered, his survival? Was it depressing to think of it in those terms? At the very least, there was no need for a wardrobe to last him through winter if he died before the wedding.

Perhaps that was what was meant by good faith.

Yuuri closed his eyes. He slipped on his clothes. Finally, he looked at the pair. “How do I thank him? And you?”

Chris and Mila exchanged grins. “We can think of a few things.”

* * *

A few things included dragging Yuuri back to the old sparring room where he had first auditioned. The desk was still in there, but the guards were gone. Perhaps they followed Victor. Chris leaned against the desk while Mila took a seat in the winged armchair, posing like a princess on a throne.

“But why?” Yuuri asked again.

“We want to see more,” Chris said. “Is that so bad? Why do you look like you're going to throw up?”

Yuuri might have felt a little green. It was depressing that they noticed so easily. “I… get nervous.”

“But you're great!” Mila said. “Just dance for us like you would for Victor.”

Yuuri’s magic was a mess. He could feel it roiling anxiously under his skin, stretched taut like a cordon that was ready to snap. “It… it isn't that simple, I…” he trailed off. They looked so expectant, waiting for greatness that Yuuri didn't, would never, possess. They expected more than Yuuri could ever offer.

Mila tapped her lips.

“Ok, let's see something you're working on. Anything you've never shown anyone before? It's okay if it isn't perfect. I want to see something that no one else has ever seen before. Do you have anything like that?”

Yuuri’s chest fluttered with nervous energy. “I do have… one dance. It isn't ready at all, but… I’ve been playing with a few ideas.”

“Let's see that,” Mila said, grinning. “It's like a secret. I love secrets. And I can see how it changes and improves as you work on it.”

It was blatantly manipulative, and it worked. Yuuri let his eyes flutter half-closed. There were three different ways of starting it that he was throwing around. Yuuri had always been fond of water. Hard not to be, really, when he'd grown up around a hot spring. Learning to conjure a gigantic sphere of water seemed like the next logical step.

Ideally, Yuuri wanted some sort of iridescent powder to throw into the water sphere, and Yuuri had been scrimping and saving for an ever-burning torch to throw into it too. Finding a light source that wouldn't be extinguished on contact with water was a challenge, and an expensive one at that. But for now, rough around the edges and lacking in any real technical merit, Yuuri supposed he could make do without.

Yuuri stepped to the glass window panes. They were frosted over, and there was fog over them from the temperature difference. The threat of snow seemed eminent. Yuuri scrubbed his hand over the glass until his hand was damp with condensation.

“Material components?” Mila asked.

Yuuri nodded, a bit surprised she could tell. “It just feels better to use them. Using an arcane focus instead just feels…”

“Wrong,” Mila agreed. “Like it’s missing something important, even if it works. I tried wands and crystals and gems. A staff is close, but even then…”

“Yeah. It's not the same,” Yuuri said.

He might not have been the most knowledgeable person in the world when it came to the arcane, but there were some things anyone who used magic knew. It wasn't enough to reach for magic and hope it was there. Magic needed a conduit, something to reach through. For different spells, there were different requirements. To summon the meteors, he needed the niter and pine sap bead, as well as a gesture and a trigger word to bring them into existence. For this one, he'd need a drop of water. The dampness of his palm would have to be enough.

To himself, he muttered, ‘don't mess up.’ His nerves calmed. He picked a starting position and started to move.

It exploded out of him in a burst of arcane energy. He could feel the exact moment it went wrong, the fraction of a moment when the spell went from in-control to spiraling out, overwhelming him despite his best efforts. The recoil popped like a physical thing, stinging on his skin like a slap. 

The intended effect fizzled and died in his fingers, and the magic was expelled in a rush, running over him in a feeling of cool water. A shimmer settled over the floor. Yuuri wobbled. His feet shot out from under him and he hit the floor in the middle of a grease slick.

“Shit!” he swore, then winced as soon as he remembered his present company. “Sorry, I mean-”

“Whoa, slippery,” Chris said, wavering unsteadily. He barely remained upright.

Mila hopped to her feet in confusion. “Hold on, what just happened? That didn't look right at all.” She touched the ground and sprawled instantly, landing flat on her back with a groan. “Ok, ow.”

“Ughhh!” Yuuri wailed into his hands. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, this wasn't supposed to happen.” He picked himself up and nearly took another tumble to the floor. 

Mila stood, taking great care as she slipped and slid around the desk, looking at him strangely. “What happened with that?”

Yuuri couldn't bear to look at her.  

“Hey, come on, now, none of that,” Chris said. “We’re just curious.”

“I'm sorry, this will… it will go away in a minute. It's happened before. At least…” Yuuri sighed. At least it wasn't fireballs this time.

“That's a _grease_ spell, isn't it?” Mila asked. She pushed away from the desk and slid along the slickened floor, skating over it like ice. Her movements were a little unsteady, but graceful enough to stay upright. “I've seen it before a few times. Handy in battle, not that I've ever used it.”

“This is not what I meant to do,” Yuuri confessed. “It's just, sometimes when I try to do magic, nothing works and it all explodes around me. To be perfectly honest, I don't know why Prince Victor would ever want to bring a screw up like me along, regardless of how important it was.”

Mila hummed, studying his face. “What spell were you trying to cast?”

Yuuri glanced up guiltily. “It's a big ball of water.”

“How big?” Mila asked. She held her hands apart, with maybe a foot between them. “This big?” She moved them further, until they had double the span of her shoulders between. “This?”

Yuuri shook his head. “Bigger. If I cast it right where I'm standing, it would probably touch the desk.”

Chris whistled. “Ten feet across?”

“No…” Yuuri said quietly. “Radius.”

Mila blinked. “Well, now, I think I understand what's going on. Just a little.”

“You do?” Yuuri asked. “I've been looking for answers for years. You know why my magic goes haywire?”

Mila shook her head. “I don't know why exactly, but I've heard of it before. Something sort of like it, anyway, but they weren't as powerful as you.”

“Powerful?” Yuuri scoffed. “I just... I practice a lot, is all. I'm not that strong.” He wasn't gifted, he wasn't a genius by any means. He could control his magic with some measure of reliability by dancing, but even so, his grasp over it was tenuous at best. And that was obvious enough right now, when his watery sphere was, instead, a grease stain on the floor. 

Mila shook her head. “Trust me, you're strong. At least as good as me, and I've been studying my whole life. But if you can't control it, it can be extremely dangerous.”

“I know that,” Yuuri said. “It's why I took up dance in the first place. It helps manage a lot of the powers I have and make them easier to control. But sometimes, it still doesn't help. It's part of why I came here in the first place. I want answers. But… I'm worried. What if I screw up? Prince Victor said it wouldn't impact my performance, but I just… I know that he'd change his mind as soon as he saw what a failure I am…”

Mila tapped her chin. “Unacceptable.” She tilted Yuuri’s face so he was looking into her eyes. “I bet you anything that attitude is a major part of why your magic isn't behaving. Victor gets enough toys. You're my experiment now.” Her eyes lit up with glee.

Yuuri had a very bad feeling about this.

 

* * *

Victor approached him two days later, sliding up beside him as Yuuri walked to his room.

“Yuuri!” he said, and somehow he managed to sound almost like he was happy to see Yuuri. “Mila says she's trying to steal you away from me. I take it you made a good impression?”

He looked like a proud papa, pleased at Yuuri’s achievements. It threw Yuuri for a loop. “I don't know?” he said. “I just…”

“Come on, I've got some stuff I want you to try on before we head out. More gifts to go with your new clothes!” Victor tugged him down the halls, leading him at a pace slightly faster than a comfortable walk. Yuuri remembered the favor, and he flushed in embarrassment. 

“Prince Victor, I wanted to thank you-”

“No no no,” Victor said firmly. “None of this prince nonsense from you. And you can thank me by showing me how you handle yourself next week. We’re leaving in five days.”

“So soon?” Yuuri asked.

Victor nodded, grinning. “It's important to take care of early, but I'm also very excited to see how you do.”

The dread was back. Worse than before, if that was at all possible.

Victor led him near the barracks, showing him into a room just off of the smithy. The air smelled of leather and metal. “Mila said you've worn armor before. If I provided you with a set, would you still be able to cast spells? Some mages can't.”

“I should be able to manage,” Yuuri said. “Is the armor… ah… necessary?”

Victor shrugged. “Who knows. I hope it isn't. But better safe than sorry. Wild animals don't care if you're a prince or a performer. If you get in their way, you're going to be bitten. And even a bit of padded leather could mean the difference between a lethal bite and some bruising.”

Emotion crossed Victor's face as he spoke. There was a passion in his words, a fondness for the thought of adventure. He was excited, Yuuri realized. “You like this, don't you? Preparing for a trip?”

Victor blinked in surprise. He smiled. “Is it that obvious? Ah, don't tell anyone though. They might get upset that I want to leave so badly.” Victor winked.

As Victor busied himself with the piles of leather and the bins of worked steel, Yuuri stepped back and watched.

Did Victor hate being here so much? He never gave any indication of being unhappy, but it was so obvious how excited he was to be in this room, elbows deep in armor pieces. He tossed pieces behind him, occasionally holding them up to size then against some invisible measure in his head.

At last, Victor stacked everything in a pile. “Here, try this on.”

Yuuri fumbled with the pieces in silence. Victor watched, amused, before helping. It made Yuuri’s hands shake, the proximity to the beautiful prince of Corrusva, but Victor was methodical with his movements, tightening straps and cinching buckles with clinical efficiency.

“There, try that out,” Victor said. His eyes were crinkling.

Yuuri shifted in the armor. It wasn't bad. A little tight, but he could move. Yuuri patted around his hips for his pouch of phosphorous. He eventually came up with glowing fingertips. He rolled his shoulders and whispered the word for light in elvish.

Four small globes popped into existence around him. It wasn't comfortable. The leather pulled on his shoulders, and the bulk of the studded leather made the motions stiffer. But casting was definitely possible.

Victor clapped him on the back with a laugh. “Fantastic! That's one worry out of the way. I'll get you a bag to keep that in. Bring it with you when we leave. Oh, and this,” Victor added, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a gold ring, simple, but shimmering faintly in the light.

Victor took Yuuri’s right hand and slid the ring into his thumb. It stuck briefly on the knuckle. When it settled at the base of the finger, it had automatically resized to a comfortable setting.

“As long as you wear this, it will be harder for creatures to do you harm. It will take a while to take effect, so don't take it off. Can you do that for me, áre?”

“I can't accept this,” Yuuri protested, trying to take it off. “This is yours, and it must be valuable-”

“And now I've given it to you to keep you safe. You don't want to get hurt, do you?” Victor asked. He was smiling. There was a conversation in that smile and it summed up to, ‘wear the damned ring or I'll make you’. It might have also just been Yuuri’s imagination.

Yuuri left the ring on his thumb. “Victor. I don't understand why you'd want to give me this.” Victor hushed him, placing a finger over Yuuri’s lips. The casual contact was hot on Yuuri’s skin.

“It's because I want to. Indulge me, Yuuri?” he said. The warmth was back. The desire to please, to acquiesce, returned. It fuzzed his mind, softly, sweetly, like the warm cup of chocolate Yuuri had gotten to taste once in his youth. Yuuri shook his head, and the feeling vanished like a runoff of cold water down his neck. Yuuri shivered.

“It's too much,” Yuuri said. A gold ring was valuable enough. For it to be enchanted, too…? Something like this was worth hundreds of gold, easily. With that much money, his family would be set for generations. That Victor would stick it on Yuuri’s thumb so carelessly…

Victor pouted. “Will you at least borrow it until the wedding?”

Yuuri sighed. “You don't know the meaning of ‘no’, do you?”

Victor laughed. “Never heard it before in my life. Please don't make me start now.” Makkachin woofed happily, and Yuuri was struck by the startling similarity between dog and prince, the same glittering, hopeful joy in their eyes. Yuuri could almost see a tail wagging behind Victor's back. 

“Just until the wedding, I suppose,” Yuuri agreed at last. “Thank you.”

“Don't mention it,” Victor sang. His fingers flitted over the armor, undoing the bindings with practiced hands. Yuuri colored when the prince's hands skated briefly over places where hands didn't belong, but Victor paid it no mind, and Yuuri tried to make it seem like he didn't notice. It was the work of several minutes between the two of them to remove everything. A contemplative silence fell, as the armor hit the ground, piece by piece.

Victor toed it into a pile and grabbed a bag. They piled it inside. At last, Victor passed the leather satchel over. “You won't need to wear it when we leave. But you might want to put the armor on once we get through the forest, where it gets more dangerous.”

“Okay,” Yuuri agreed. He clutched the bag in his fingers. “Um. Victor…? Do you ever get… nervous…? Before a hunt?”

“Not typically, no,” Victor said. “There were a few battles where I was a bit concerned for my own safety, but that was war, and war is brutal.”

It almost seemed at odds with the smiling prince before him, the reminder that this beautiful man had fought in vicious battles against enemies of Corussva. But he was a war hero, celebrated and decorated with medals of honor and valor. Even if he wasn't a prince, his actions made him a legend.

“What is it like?” Yuuri asked.

Victor's smile fell. “Some might tell you war is beautiful,” he said softly. “And sometimes they're right. The camaraderie of battle is something beyond description. You watch them grow close and become a family... Which is why it hurts that much worse to see them fall. But it's also why you feel such pride to see them move. To watch your men fan out, flank the enemy in a wave of sheer human numbers. To see the fear of the enemy as they realize their mistake, and cry to fall back.”

Victor’s voice took a harder edge.

“But war isn't beautiful. People die. And all the pride in the world doesn't make it possible to forget the sight of a battlefield strewn with corpses, carrion crows picking at flesh as it rots. Especially when they're people you know. Or when they fell by your hand.”

“I'm sorry,” Yuuri said.

“That's what everyone says.” Victor shrugged. There was an odd humanity in his eyes, a vulnerability that seemed at odds with the cold exterior he tried to project. Yuuri shivered.

“I… imagine you hear that a lot. I don't know if there's anything I _can_ say. I've never fought in any kinds of battles before, so… I don't know what you've been through. But you did it to defend your home, didn't you? You did it to protect the things you care about. And… there's a lot of good in that, even if it hurts to lose the things you care about.  I guess what I'm trying to say,” Yuuri muttered, “is that you can't live your life with regrets. At least, that's what I've been told. It's not so easy in practice.”

Victor stared at his face for a long time, long enough that Yuuri grew embarrassed and looked away, cheeks ruddy.

Victor laughed, tackling him in a surprise hug that almost knocked Yuuri to the ground. He leaned close, too close, and murmured directly into Yuuri’s ear. “You're right, you know. It's not easy. Not at all. Will you help me?”

“Sure?” Yuuri choked. Victor made a sound of delight and squeezed tighter. His eyes were sparkling when he pulled away.

“I can't wait, Yuuri,” Victor said. He laughed again. And for a moment, Yuuri could almost pretend that Victor wanted to be friends. That a poor boy from Hasetsu could ever in any way measure up to the radiant prince of a faraway country.

The feeling of it was warm. Almost warm enough to sour into regret when all of this finally ended.

* * *

Preparations for the wedding kept everyone moving at a jog through the castle, even if there was still a fortnight until the first day. It didn't feel like two weeks had passed since arriving. And yet somehow Yuuri had survived this long so far from home, and he was still alive. 

The accidental _grease_ spell was the only major misfire he'd had during practice. One of his spells shifted into an explosion of magical darts, but luckily it was possible to send all seven careening into a tree where no one could be harmed. The bark was only mildly splintered by the barrage. 

It was clear enough that Yuuri wasn't the only one practicing his performance. The trouper’s tents were a constant hub of energy. Minako often went off in the nights to partake in drinking contests, but most of the entertainers were focused on keeping a clear head before the next round of events. Many of them received invitations on stiff, fine paper telling them what time they'd be tested once more.

The delivery of Yuuri’s (by Mila no less) nearly set him hyperventilating.

“Calm down!” she said, settling by his side. “Victor picked all the times, special, and he picked this one so he could eat lunch with you instead of having to watch someone else perform. Lazy asshole. You're already in, he's told me.”

“I'm what?” Yuuri asked.

Mila laughed. “I thought we told you. You're one of the 50. Victor's already decided. I've never seen him so fixated on anyone but he likes what you do.”

Yuuri smiled a little, soft and quiet. “For whatever reason.”

“He's right, though,” Mila insisted, “you're really talented. And this modesty is really a breath of fresh air around here, I’m telling you. I really don’t get much of that from these people. Do you think you could teach me some moves?” Mila was far nicer than she had any right to be. 

“I could try. I don't know how well I'd do. It would probably be better to ask someone else, though, someone who’s… better.”

“I want you,” Mila said. She dragged him to his feet with a grin. “All of my other friends have gone home and I'm bored, so you're going to teach me how to dance.”

Yuuri nodded. “Okay.”

How Mila had successfully wormed her way into Yuuri’s shell, Yuuri would never know. She had some innate sense of exactly what to say to bring Yuuri around. It was a bit strange, but her knack for it did a lot to set Yuuri a little more at ease around the castle.

If anyone came to visit, it was often her. Victor, she explained, was about to pull his hair out from his busy he was, and Chris was right there with him. As long as Mila got her duties done in the mornings, she had little else to take care of beyond her studies.

When Yuuri asked about her studies, Mila dragged him to what immediately became Yuuri’s favorite place in the castle: a sprawling library with countless shelves of books and several quiet nooks where tables and armchairs were tucked away. She had access to one of the many private studies adjacent to the library, and it was where she practiced magic.

Mila's magic relied heavily on studying, reviewing, brushing up on information every day to keep it fresh in her mind. And so they traded. Mila would teach him what she knew about magical theory, and Yuuri taught her how to dance.

She wove through the library with purpose. Her thumb ran over leather spines like she could feel out the right one, plucking stacks of them out from their spots on sweeping shelves. If Yuuri’s comfort was in dancing, it was clear her’s was here, at home in the steady discovery of knowledge.

Magic, as it turned out, was devilishly difficult and needlessly complex. Mila’s spellbooks might as well have been written in Goblin, for all the help they were to Yuuri. They spent hours rifling through leatherbound tomes, chatting easily and comfortably, but there wasn't anything particularly useful to Yuuri in them. Mila was a wizard, like the team that had visited Yuuri’s hot springs back home, like Minako’s necromancer friend. And in the eyes of a by-the-book magic user, things like Yuuri’s explosively chaotic magic seemed at odds with the natural order of things.

When their legs were stiff and they needed a stretch, Mila dragged her fingers through her true-red hair with a ragged sigh.

“Well. This is quite the puzzle, isn't it? Let's go dance. Maybe it'll dust off the cobwebs in my head.”

Yuuri agreed easily. He hadn't wanted to say anything, but inactivity had his legs starting to cramp. Yuuri didn’t know if she returned every book to its original spot, or if she simply shoved them wherever there was space, but she didn’t seem to waste much time with the practice either way.

The sparring room was occupied by performers, the ballroom was in the process of being entirely retrofitted for the wedding, and they were politely shooed out of the wider corridors by servants who really just wanted to get through and get their jobs done. Yuuri led Mila outside, to the span of grey winter grass where he usually practiced.

Their breath ghosted in the air as they warmed up. Mila had left the loose mage robes back inside the castle, donning a tighter pair of rose colored leggings and a belted tunic that was a darker blue than her eyes, so big through the neck that it hung loosely off one shoulder. The change seemed to suit her.

“It's cold,” she puffed.

“You'll warm up,” Yuuri encouraged. He shivered too, but it was always a temporary thing. And over the years, Yuuri had gotten used to it.

She was a natural, in a way that Yuuri wasn't. She had a competitive spark to rival Yuuri’s, but where Yuuri kept his quiet, muffled in the back of his waking thoughts, she was quite upfront with her attitude.

She threw herself into the moves, adapting them to her own skillset. Yuuri considered his teaching mediocre at best, but Mila didn't seem to care either way. Eventually, it became a comfortable exchange, a balance of demonstration and rehearsal and modifying the positions of limbs.

There was a distant sigh behind them, something Yuuri almost missed to Mila’s whirling arms and flailing dance. A soft voice chuckled quietly. “Ah, I feel replaced.”

“I like him better, he's cuter than you,” Mila chirped, not even looking. Yuuri whirled. It was Victor, draping an arm over his head dramatically. Yuuri went stock still. Every limb felt locked in place, paralyzed like a frightened animal in the face of a predator.

“Well, don't stop on my account,” Victor laughed. He made an encouraging gesture.

Like Mila, he had stripped out of some of his finery. The finely detailed frock coat and cravat had been replaced by a slim (still ornate) jerkin and pale trousers. He didn't seem dressed for the cold, but neither did he seem bothered by it. At his feet, mismatching the rest of it, were a pair of well-worn furred boots, the only concession to warmth he seemed to make. Yuuri glanced away, flushing.

“Try… ah… raising your arm higher,” Yuuri managed. Mila hummed, attempting the delicate spin with her arm lifted a bit more than last time. “Better, and then…”

“Then sweep out,” Mila answered, folding her body into a low bow and gracefully sweeping her arms to either side. “Like that?”

Yuuri shook his head. “Close, but dip a little deeper. It needs to suggest a… ah…” Yuuri shrugged for the word. “Like this,” Yuuri said. He demonstrated, showing off what Minako had taught him of the way women tended to move.

The dances of men and women were different in subtle ways, the motions designed to draw attention to different assets in ways that people were not entirely conscious of. It was a delicate balance of those which Yuuri strived for in his own dancing, using the movement of his body in ways that made Minako holler gleefully and made his childhood friend Yuko bleed at the nose.

“Reminds me of a bird taking flight,” Victor said.

Mila brightened. “I see it, yes!” She turned the move again, going a bit faster, flicking out her fingertips in a quick dip like the beating of thin wings. Positively beautiful. 

Yuuri nodded approvingly. “Good, good!”

Mila tackled him, smelling distinctly of sweat and wind as she pressed her icy nose to his neck. “You're the best teacher ever!” Yuuri cringed away. 

“Gah, you're cold!” he sputtered. An evil look crossed her face. Suddenly she was pressing her ice cube fingers against whatever bare bit of skin she could find, laughing in cruel delight as Yuuri yelped and struggled to escape.

Victor made a small choking noise behind them, and Mila paused, tilting her head questioningly toward him. His fist was pressed to his lips, eyes closed, and he was wincing slightly. Victor laughed. “Ah, don't mind me. Indigestion.”

Mila smirked. When she pulled away, she gave her arms a quick rub, probably warming herself as best she could. “What do you want?” Her tone was absolutely the last thing Yuuri expected to hear, especially when she was addressing a prince.

“I had some questions about the day we’re leaving, but you weren't in the library. Imagine, then, my surprise when Chris told me where you two disappeared!”

Mila laughed. “You're the one who told me he was a good dancer. This is your fault. You know I need a new dance tutor since we ran the last one off. My dad still thinks I'm here learning to be a proper lady.”

“His mistake,” Victor said with a shrug.

“A tutor?” Yuuri asked.

Mila nodded. “You don't mind, do you? I just need to pull off one dance, it isn't like I need to learn everything. But if my dad thinks I'm not learning anything here, he might send me back to Sorren.”

“Gods forbid,” Victor muttered good naturedly. Mila jabbed him with her elbow.

“He's coming to the wedding and I need a cover. I know I should have told you,” Mila said.

Oh. They were using him. That made perfect sense. All Yuuri really had to offer was his dance, mediocre as it was, and of course nobles lived to use others. Victor was passing him through so Yuuri could focus on teaching Mila before the event. Yuuri nodded.

“If you need something for a wedding, it might be a good idea to learn something for pairs. Ah, please, forgive my lack of knowledge. Victor, you wouldn't happen to know what is considered a traditional wedding dance in this country?” Yuuri asked.

Victor hummed. “Mother is keeping it multinational to honor the foreign princess. Most popular dances are sure to be included, but I believe she was adamant about the inclusion of a few traditional Corrusvan dances. A waltz, I’m certain, would do the job. Mila knows she could have asked me. I've had tutors for years.”

“You're too tall,” Mila sniffed. “I like my men a bit shorter.”

“Like that soldier with the jeweled axe?” Victor asked innocently.

Mila laughed and pushed him away. “You are an absolute pest,” she said. “No wonder General Yakov likes you on the front lines. He must be hoping you learn a bit of respect.”

“Yakov hates me,” Victor whispered to Yuuri conspiratorially, like it was some great secret only Yuuri was allowed to know. “Likely because I'm the reason he is balding. Joke’s on him, he was losing his hair before I came around. I just make it worse.” And then he laughed. The sound was like silver and liquid, smooth as honey. Yuuri couldn't even think of a response before Victor was moving.

He took Mila by the waist and spun her around, lighter on his feet than Yuuri could have imagined. Almost as quickly, he was turning, turning, turning, a hop in his step as he closed his fingers in loose rings around Yuuri’s wrists.

“Let's test you, then, see what you can teach her,” Victor said, grinning. “I promise I'll be gentle.”

Victor started into a waltz, taking the lead before Yuuri could be startled away. He was good, surprisingly so, Yuuri marveled. For a man who lived by the blade, his footwork was nimble, and his knowledge of the dance was impressive.

Yuuri allowed himself to be led, all the while his mind puzzling at Victor’s esoteric motivations. If Victor wanted a test, he'd have one. As the hands settled cooly on Yuuri’s waist, the fingers like ice cubes even through the fabric of his clothes, Yuuri felt a familiar warmth under his skin.

This was the one thing he was decent at. The only thing he really could do, without being an abysmal failure.

The bardic dances of Minako’s usual lessons did not apply here. The chaotic strain of magic was absent. There was only the easy burn of his muscles as he rolled through the moves. They were so familiar to him, he knew them as intimately as a waking dream, and he allowed Victor to guide him across the field at a dizzying speed.

Victor was not a bad dancer, desire what he might have said at their first meeting. Quite good, actually, although it seemed a given that a prince could afford the best tutors. Victor was smiling. But he'd seen nothing yet.

Yuuri grinned, elated, and he let the soundless music sing in his very blood. The very cornerstone of civilization was music, and Yuuri carried it in his body wherever he went. Yuuri’s hands slid, teasingly, up the length of Victor’s torso, settling gently on his shoulders.

Victor grinned. Surprise flashed over his face when Yuuri suddenly tugged, palming his hands over Victor's hips and spinning the man around.

“Do you know the quickstep?” Yuuri asked innocently, leading Victor into a faster dance than the last. This time, Yuuri took charge, taking the grassy field in stride. The temperature felt warm around him. Pleasant, like a spring day, untouched by the coldness of the early winter.

Victor moved like he was born to it. His eyes were cold and glittering, but they'd never seemed so alive in that moment. Victor allowed himself to be dipped, hand settling on Yuuri’s cheek before coming back up. The long flow of silver hair rippled like a river.

“How about a different speed?” Victor offered, turning the dance once more. It took on a slower bent, easing across the field like a slinking cat. The predatory turns and swaying of hips was something Yuuri had studied well. Their bodies were flush, moving like one. Victor allowed Yuuri to keep the lead, using the prowling movements as a focus for seductive sway of his hips.

They danced for what seemed like an eternity, every few minutes changing paces, testing one another, trying to find a point where one would concede defeat. For as many dances as Yuuri knew, Victor was quick and capable of keeping up, even if the steps were not familiar to him. He analyzed the pace, the rhythm, the emotion behind it and he rapidly followed suit. For as vast a repertoire as Yuuri possessed, Victor knew some Yuuri didn't, dances native to this country which Yuuri had never visited now.

Yuuri got a very personal, very close look at dances he'd never seen in practice before, movements only ever heard Minako mention in passing. They were laughing. It was as much a contest as it was a game.

Victor tired first, short on breath and coming to a full stop. Yuuri grinned, feeling free, feeling _alive._ He twisted away, settling into a ballet number he could hear singing sweetly in his mind, Minako’s favorite song running undercurrent to it all. Mila whistled. At last, Yuuri settled in a final pose, holding it up even under Victor’s scrutiny. Victor grinned, rubbing at his chest in an absent gesture.

“I suppose I can let you teach Mila,” he sighed dramatically. “I bow to your expertise.” He swept into a deep bow.

Yuuri stumbled out of the pose, blushing furiously. “I- you don't-”

Mila watched with a little smile. “As if you could have stopped me. Come on, Yuuri, it's getting late. Let's have dinner.”

“I'll come too-” Victor started, but Mila shook her head.

“You have to eat with your family, remember? Come on, Yuuri, I want to show you the kitchens.”

Victor groaned. “Mila, why?”

She grinned over her shoulder. “Should have thought of that before stealing my dance tutor for the afternoon.” Yuuri was led along away from the fields. Victor was pouting. Actually pouting. “You’ll see him tomorrow!” Mila yelled back. Victor immediately smiled. Like that was the best damn news he'd gotten all day. 

* * *

“You’ve been spending a lot of time running around the castle, lately,” Minako mentioned that night. 

“What do you mean?” Yuuri asked. He ran his fingers over the stiff invitation, the paper embossed with the gleaming black calligraphy that formally announced the time of the meeting tomorrow.

Minako looked at him curiously. “Really, Yuuri? I never see you lately. You’re always off somewhere. Making friends?”

Yuuri thought about Mila and her easy acceptance of Yuuri’s oddness. He thought about Victor’s occasional appearances whenever he found a moment free.

“I don’t know,” Yuuri said. He shrugged, looking back down at the invitation. “Maybe. It’s too soon to say for sure. One of them, she knows a lot about magic. She thinks she might be able to figure out what’s wrong with me.”

Minako smiled and ruffled his hair. “Well, as long as you’re not spending all of your time alone. You’re not forgetting to practice, are you?

Yuuri shook his head, horrified at the thought. “Of course I’m practicing!” he said. Minako laughed.

“Well then. I guess you’ll just have to be ready for tomorrow then.” She took the invitation from his hands, studying it. “This is quite nice, you know. Looks like no expenses spared. This is going to be a pretty nice event,” she said, winking. “I imagine the alcohol selection will be top notch.”

“I’m starting to think you’re only using me to challenge nobles to drinking contests,” Yuuri groaned.

Minako rolled her eyes, but didn't deny it. “Yuuri, Yuuri, Yuuri, you've got a lot to learn still. Go to bed, you've got a big day tomorrow.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The first part of the Rage of Bahamut x Yuri on Ice crossover has been subbed and it's... It's something. If it wasn't official, I'd call it the crack-iest fanfic I've ever seen. Check it out, it's beautiful. 
> 
> Also, in this, I consider Yuuri's nerves mostly centered around his magic, but he's decently comfortable with his dancing skills. Obviously he doesn't consider himself great at either and still is baffled about why he's here at all. Poor child. 
> 
> Thanks again for all of the kudos and comments and other things! I really appreciate it~


	7. The Platinum Cathedral

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri does research before his meeting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like previous chapters have been too long so I've broken this one into two parts. Let me know if anyone prefers the chapters longer or shorter. 
> 
> Also, you might see a mention of someone named 'Katya'. Don't be concerned. I just needed a name, and Anya will come along later.

Yuuri couldn't get to sleep. In wakefulness, he found himself imagining nightmarish scenarios where he showed up to his timeslot and the prince laughed Yuuri out of the castle for thinking he could ever measure up. He imagined Mila telling him she found a new tutor and that he was being replaced. He imagined being told to leave, and having to come home, facing his parents and the rest of his hometown. 

He would have to tell them what a failure he was. How he couldn't measure up. 

The dread was heavy and thick in his mind, a tenacious mire that stuck around into the morning. 

Yuuri dressed slowly. His bones were leaden, and moving his limbs was pure torture. This was going to end in embarrassment, Yuuri was certain. The threadbare blue tunic and dancer’s tights, chosen in case this was a mistake and he'd need to try out once more, looked so shabby, even to him. 

Maybe it was wrong of Yuuri to do this. Maybe he shouldn't have ever agreed to join Victor’s little adventure. 

Yuuri glanced down at his hand, studying the pretty gold band on his thumb and the reminder it served, like a promise. 

The ring was slightly thinner along the bottom, beveled along the edges, and very delicately wrought. No seam showed where the ends had been joined. All that Yuuri could see was the gleam of arcane symbols, shimmering like faint reflections in the metal. 

Yuuri tracked down his little notebook. He hadn't looked at it much since leaving Hasetsu. All the notes were still there: the copy of the circle the visiting wizards had drawn, the list of components in the waters, Yuuri's own scribbled observations of his magical backfires. 

He added notations on the grease spell, and added a new comment about the magical darts he'd accidentally summoned. 

They were truly strange. The missiles had launched themselves through the air, propelled under their own innate forces. All it had taken was a thought, and they spiraled off exactly where Yuuri had been hoping they'd hit. 

The accuracy of them was astounding. 

Yuuri tapped the tail of his quill thoughtfully against the page, avoiding the fresh ink. He held the ring up to the light. 

It took a while, but Yuuri painstakingly copied the symbols into his book. The shimmer made them hard to make out, like gossamer in moonlight. It took some squinting. The drawings seemed to be close enough. 

Yuuri had some time to kill before lunch, so he picked his way to the front of the castle, remembering something interesting. 

“Excuse me,” he said to one of the guards. 

The guard looked him up and down. He was a gruffer man, his beard coarse as bristled wire and about the same silvery color. His face was deeply scored by wrinkles. But despite the age of his face, his body was solid and strong, and Yuuri was certain he could still use the hefty broadsword on his back. “Ye, boy?”

“I was wondering if you could tell me how to find the citadel,” Yuuri said. 

The guard gave him a few quick instructions, and Yuuri went on his way, finding the grand spires with little issue.

The architecture was old, the sort of old that laughed at the turns of centuries and watched the tides of civilization. It was ancient and beautiful, not gaudy, but breathtaking all the same. It was not the easy opulence of the palace, or the splendor of the red building Yuuri had found himself inside of in Mavioy.

A younger woman in pale grey robes greeted him at the doors. 

“How can I help you?” she asked. Her tone was demure and calm. She held her hands clasped together. 

Yuuri glanced around the inside, noticing the things he had missed the last time he'd been inside. The furnishings were very simple, tasteful. It gave Yuuri the impression of more space given than was needed. He hesitated. Now he was curious, and his question had changed. “I'm sorry, but I was wondering. What is this place?”

The woman smiled at him. “Please, come in and warm yourself by the fire.” She beckoned him to a warm grate along a far walk in the room, prodding the flickering embers briefly with a long, silvery poker. “So you wish to hear about the Platinum Dragon, Bahamut?”

“Yes, please,” Yuuri said. He held his fingers to the flames, letting the warm air defrost him. 

There were, of course, a few temples in Hasetsu. The people were by and large not a particularly devout bunch, but they did not ignore the gods either. Pelor was popular, a god of the sun, of summer, of agriculture and time. There was always a small midsummer's festival every year in his honor. Otherwise, Yuuri and the rest of Hasetsu did not spare much attention for worship. 

Yuuri knew the names of a handful of other gods, but to know their names and to know of their power were two entirely different things. 

“This temple is in service to Bahamut, and many within its walls have devoted their lives to his name,” the woman began. “We have called this citadel home for five generations, and we will continue for as long as we are given leave to serve him. Please, if you would follow me?”

She gestured away from the fire toward an archway. Yuuri followed her through. Inside was a long corridor, the walls richly decorated with murals depicting the same silvery dragon that had been on several tapestries within the Nikiforov’s castle. 

They stopped at the first, a glowing depiction of a massive dragon. A scintillating aura of light wreathed it, giving its scales the light of every color under the sun. The next panel showed the same dragon surrounded by the heads of five other dragons: a gold, a silver, a bronze, a brass, and a copper. 

“As the name might imply,” the woman began, “Bahamut is lord of the metallic dragons. He is a figure of such immense wisdom and power that even the most powerful among dragons bow before him. But he is more than that. He is the Angel of the Seven Heavens, the Justicemaker, Marduk the Lord of the North Wind. He is a champion of good and justice in the world. His compassion is as endless as his empathy for the weak, the downtrodden, and the lost. Where evil is found, it is to be snuffed out.”

The woman led Yuuri further down the corridor. The next panel was of the dragon judging evildoers. The one beside it was of a glittering castle, with walls of solid mithril, windows of gemstone, and inlays of silver and gold. Around the castle were seven golden Great Wyrms, ancient dragons of immense power in their own respect. Beside that one was the massive platinum dragon transforming into an old man, wandering the land with seven canaries on his shoulders. She stopped further down, coming to a stop before a brutal work of art. 

It was as terrible as it was wondrous. Masterful, but a horror to behold. Within the bounds of the panel, enclosing it like a cage, was another dragon. A goddess in the terrible form of a five-headed dragon. Each head possessed a different color: red, white, blue, black, and green, every one of them pulled back in a vicious snarl. 

It made Yuuri's blood run icy with cold fear. 

“His eternal enemy, the avaricious Tiamat, evilest of all dragons.”

She told stories of his battles against the evil Tiamat, of how Bahamut would roam the land in the guise of an old man, dispensing advice and protection to those in need. 

An hour passed quickly before Yuuri could even recall why he'd come here in the first place. 

“Thank you for telling me,” Yuuri said. His mind was already spinning with thoughts of a new dance, and that was just from the pictures he'd seen. 

The woman smiled. “It is nothing. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

Yuuri nodded. “Yes, actually. Would it be possible for me to look at your teleportation circle? I've been studying them, and it would be nice to see one up close.”

The woman considered it for a moment. “It shouldn't be an issue. Please, come along with me.”

Yuuri pulled out his notebook and followed her. Others within the citadel were dressed as modestly as the woman was, moving with purpose through the halls. Two armored figures walked past, headed the opposite direction. Their armor matched, gleaming and white. The woman carried a stout sword and the man had a very large war hammer. They were severe in appearance, and passed Yuuri without a second glance.

They passed layers of divine seals and runes, carvings inscribed into the very stone floor itself. At last, they reached the room with the teleportation circle. 

It didn’t take long at all to look it over, copy down the exact symbols and sigils and runes that marked this as a unique destination circle. Yuuri thanked her profusely. 

“And may Bahamut guide you,” she replied, bowing her head.

Yuuri pulled his cloak around his shoulders and returned to the bracing cold of the winter air. With the errand out of the way, he was feeling a little calmer about what he was about to do. A few of the other performers waved as he passed, picking him out as someone who didn’t exactly belong, but they had matters of their own and Yuuri wasn’t the kind to chat.

Yuuri could finally somewhat find his way through the monstrously large castle, and it didn't take long at all for him to find his destination. 

He showed the invitation to the guard outside the sparring room. “You’re a bit early,” the guard said. His eyes were a softer brown, and he looked young for a guard. His voice even cracked a little on the delivery. “P-Prince Nikiforov is still finishing his evaluation.”

“Thank you,” Yuuri said. He stepped back to wait. He heard the steady click of heeled boots down the halls, along with the scuffle of several more footsteps and a cart that jolted on the stones. “Oh, Mila,” he said, noticing the redhead. 

She beamed. “Yuuri, you’re early!” Trailing behind her was a small flock of servants.  Each of them carried some sort of tray or dish, a bottle of wine or glasses. 

“It seems like Victor’s busy still,” Yuuri said, glancing at the young guard. The boy, because he was definitely not a man, looked vaguely terrified. 

“He must be miserable,” she laughed. “Ah, I don't see Georgi. Hold down the hall, I'm going to go find him. If I'm not back, have the servants bring the food in when Victor’s done,” Mila said. She said it so casually, like ordering servants around was something Yuuri did all the time. 

Yuuri eyed the crowd, many of them older than him, as Mila scurried off. They stared back. It was not threatening, closer to being openly curious. Yuuri shuffled his feet. 

At last, the door opened. A dainty woman with long blonde hair finished whatever conversation it was she'd been having before stepping out. She batted her eyes at Victor as he left, and he offered a wave. Her eyes lingered on Yuuri briefly before she moved on.

Yuuri glanced down the hall. Mila was nowhere to be seen. He looked back at the servants. They were already moving inside without hesitation. Yuuri followed, sticking to the walls as they placed chairs around the massive desk, laid out the cart with the full service meal, and set out a number of glasses, which they filled with a decanter of wine. 

Victor smiled. “Welcome, Yuuri!” 

Yuuri edged a little closer, but he bumped into servants who leveled glares at him for getting in their way, and he fumbled to avoid them. “Mila said she was looking for someone named Georgi, I think?” he said. 

Victor nodded. He was stiff and formal, watching the slow procession of people finish uncovering platters and leave silver laid out beside plate settings. “Very good, very good. She shouldn’t be too long, then. Hi, Chris!”

“Well, hello, Victor!” Chris called, smiling broadly as he stepped past the doorway. He and Victor shared a brief hug. The servants watched, wordless. They finished their tasks, and Victor waved them off. They left in a stream of bodies. Victor didn’t say another word until they’d all gone. 

“Is everything alright?” Yuuri asked, frowning at Victor’s flat expression.

He sighed. “Eyes everywhere. Everything always gets back to mother eventually. She wants the best, but she’s quite nosy. And there are things in my life that she doesn’t need to know.” He glanced around the room, as though trying to confirm that it was, indeed, empty. “Either way, Mila and Georgi should be here soon, so we shouldn’t have to wait long,” Victor said. 

Chris smiled. “Excellent. How are you settling in, Yuuri?” he said. His voice was a soft purr, distinctive and foreign in its lilt. Where he was from, Yuuri couldn’t tell, but he seemed completely at home in the castle, so it was clear that he was content here. 

Yuuri nodded. “I’m doing fine. Thank you for inviting me, by the way,” he said demurely, turning to Victor. Victor beamed. “I visited the citadel this morning. It’s quite beautiful.”

“Just sightseeing?” Chris asked. “Or a devout?”

“Informational trip,” Yuuri said. “The story of Bahamut would make for an interesting dance. I wonder if it would be at all possible to do it justice.”

Victor’s eyes lit up. “Would you be able to have it before the wedding?”

Yuuri was surprised by the intensity of his excitement. Unfortunately, Victor’s hopes were impossible. Yuuri shook his head. “Even if I wanted to, it wouldn’t be ready. Not in the short amount of time. Would something like that be well received?” 

“Bahamut is a popular god in Corrusva,” Chris said. “It would be very well-received. If you could pull something like that off…” He looked at Yuuri, evaluating something quickly before crossing his arms. His little half-smile was telling of something left unsaid. “Well, it would be a good thing.”

That was a good sign, at the very least. The audience was important when planning a routine, and Yuuri wasn’t entirely sure what would be liked best in a place like this. Having direction to new dances… “I could start putting pieces together, but I can’t guarantee anything,” Yuuri said. “It usually takes me at least a few weeks to feel confident enough in a piece to feel ready to perform it.” 

As if to interrupt Victor’s next words, the door opened, and Mila walked in with a dark haired man by her side. He was openly bawling into his elbow. “Come on, it’s okay,” she said. She patted his arm gently. “Let’s take a break from thinking about her and have some lunch.”

“She loved lunch,” the man, whom Yuuri took to be Georgi, sobbed into his hands. Mila nodded understandingly and plopped the man into his chair. She pointed a finger at Yuuri, and a glitter of arcane green and gold sparked around the pad of it. 

Her lips moved. Yuuri could hear the whisper as though it was only an inch from his ear. “His fiance broke their engagement.” The broken man bent double over his plate, mindless of the place setting and cutlery, and continued to cry harder. Mila patted his back and stepped away. “Sorry about that, Victor, he didn’t want to leave his room.”

“Katya,” Georgi sobbed. “Come back to me! No man will ever love you as much as I do! Katya please.” He cried it to the skies. 

“Georgi,” Chris said, moving into the chair beside him. “It was an arranged marriage, and she wanted out before you ever met. Surely you expected this?” Georgi cried harder. 

Chris slumped back in defeat. Victor shook his head. “He’s been torn up about it for weeks. I thought he’d be over it by now.”   


“Nope,” Mila said. She sat on Georgi’s right. “Let’s eat, I missed breakfast to my books.”

Victor patted the seat beside him, smiling once more. “Sit by me, Yuuri!” He was as excitable as the poodle he often had with him, Yuuri thought, settling down beside him. But, Yuuri noticed, the excitement vanished in sight of the servants.

When the servants had milled through the room, the entire personality seemed to be muted. His smile was tamped down, the light in his eyes filtered. Surrounded by his friends, he seemed to sparkle to life. 

The food was exceptional. Yuuri’s eyes went wide as he took in the spread, tasting a bite of everything. “This is amazing!” 

“A fair bit nicer than the usual spread?” Mila asked. She smiled pleasantly. Georgi cried softly into his lunch. 

“I've seen the slop they feed the entertainers,” Chris sniffed. “Unfortunate, really.”

“It isn't so bad,” Yuuri said. “It isn't my mother’s cooking, of course, but it's quite nice still.”

“Your mother makes your food?” Chris asked. He sounded genuinely surprised. 

“My mother loves to cook. It's one of her greatest passions. There's this dish she makes when she has pork, it has this wonderful sauce with sake and mirin and egg-” Yuuri broke off. “I'm sorry, I'm babbling.”

“What is sake?” Georgi sniffled. 

“A kind of wine made from rice,” Yuuri said. “Mirin is a sweeter rice wine with a lower alcohol content. Mirin isn't as much for drinking, though, mostly cooking.”

“Huh,” Georgi muttered. He blew his nose noisily into a handkerchief, his eyes red and misty. He picked at his food with a shuddering sigh. Yuuri sat back after that, more than happy to let the others continue chattering so that Yuuri wouldn't have to make a fool of himself again. 

When the meal was finished, they sat back. Victor hummed. “Now that we've all eaten. Yuuri, Georgi, you've made each other's acquaintance.” He glanced around the room. He hopped to his feet and tiptoed over to the door, suddenly slamming it open. The young guard from before looked nearly ready to wet himself. “We’re not to be overheard. You understand?” Victor said firmly. 

The boy nodded, hiding behind his polearm. He was shaking. 

“Good.” Victor closed the doors again and returned to his winged armchair. “Let's get down to business. We’re leaving tomorrow, and there are a few things I wanted to say so that this is as organized as possible. Chris, you're responsible for food.” Chris nodded. “Mila, keep track of the maps we’ll need. Look ahead and see if you can think of anything else that might be helpful. If you find anything, bring it.” Mila mock-saluted. “Yuuri, make sure you're packed for about a week. It shouldn't take quite that long, but it's good as a rough estimate. Bring anything you need for your spells.”

Yuuri nodded. 

Victor turned to Georgi. “And Georgi…” The man had stopped crying, at the very least, but he still looked distinctly unhappy. Every so often, a stray tear would streak down his cheek. “Just… don't forget anything.” Georgi nodded. 

Victor sat back comfortably. 

“We’ll leave at dawn. Triskin is two and a half days away, and we have about a comfortable window of a week. The worst of it is happening in the area surrounding Triskin, mostly within the radius of a few miles, so two days to search should be plenty of time. We go in, find the wolves, and make their pelts into rugs. Any questions?”

“What if I want a cape instead of a rug?” Chris asked. 

“Then we make it a cape,” Victor said, like it was obvious. Of course. 

Yuuri watched the last stages of planning take place. Georgi quietly chimed in with a few well-placed comments about weather and Mila mentioned she'd look into it. Whatever that meant, Yuuri wasn't sure. 

“So, are we all set?” Chris asked. 

Victor nodded. “Looks like it.” His eyes were glittering excitedly. “This is going to be great!”

* * *

Yuuri couldn't sleep again. It was getting ridiculous at this point, and he knew the feelings were irrational, but he just couldn't shake them. They burrowed furiously into his mind and preyed on his thoughts.

If the wolves weren't found, Victor would be angry. If they were found, Yuuri wasn't sure he could help. He didn't want to hurt the things. 

Yuuri closed his eyes. 

They killed people. He repeated it in his head like a mantra. They were mindless beasts who consumed and killed and ate without a rational thought in their heads. Animals. They were a pest, and pests needed to be taken out as soon as they became a nuisance. 

  
His pillow muffled his soft, sleepless groan. He couldn't do this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the world of D&D, one of the running themes is the presence of higher powers taking an (occasionally very keen) interest in the goings-on of the world and the various planes. Even nonreligious folks understand that the gods are very real, even granting their followers divine powers, however many of them believe that the gods aren't particularly active or generally care about the minutiae of the world, leaving it to their followers to attend to their will. Most gods don't care about the general operations of the world as they are, in fact, gods, and have better things to do than to concern themselves with the affairs of mortals. 
> 
> Like the real world, however, the degree of devout-ness varies depending on who you are, where you are, and what god you're talking about. There are even athiests who argue that the gods are simply highly powerful beings that are revered as gods, but are no more divine than someone's left shoe. 
> 
> In Corrusva in general, and Rostele in particular, Bahamut (Pronounced Buh-haa-mutt) is considered the most popular deity, despite being a dragon. Other gods are worshipped, and many of them have temples of their own, but Bahamut also has the favor of the crown. There were a variety of reasons I chose him, the least of which being to honor that hot mess of a video game.


	8. From Rostele to Trisken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey to Trisken begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things I've now shamelessly borrowed from Critical Role so far: the pantheon of gods (technically it's the default pantheon of 5e but whatever, I like it because of the show), and the Winter’s Crest festival. Which is like Christmas meets the winter solstice, but with more magic.

Yuuri and Mila studied together inside of the library until it was time to leave. But despite Mila’s steady progress at the Essau Waltz over the last few days, Yuuri was still no closer to answers to his questions.

“Sometimes magic just happens. It could be in your blood,” Mila mentioned. She didn't look remotely tired, even though she'd mentioned she wasn't usually up this early. A warm mug of something dark and steaming filled the air with a rich scent. “It isn't common, but it happens. A lot of the time, it's because of triggers you've probably never even experienced for yourself. Does your family have any history with dragons?”

Yuuri shook his head. Saga hadn't seen dragons in hundreds of years. They didn't frequent the area, and Yuuri's family didn't really come into contact with such rare and powerful creatures. “I don't know. I don't think so.”

Mila pursed her lips. “Maybe not. I think we'd know if the magic was draconic.” She looked at his face. “You look really tired. Are you sure you're okay?”

Yuuri nodded. He hadn't slept a wink, and there were dark shadows under his eyes, but he was fine. Minako was a little worried, but she was mostly excited for him. She'd given him a big hug and wished him luck. When he pulled away, she'd wrapped her green cloak around his shoulders. “Take this. I would feel better if you had it. This too,” she said. She pulled a small golden chain out of her pocket, with a smooth grey stone hanging off. “Come back safe. And have fun!”

Yuuri was wearing both now, in addition to the gold ring. He toyed with the band.

Mila was dressed as she always was, with a pack sitting off to the side. It was rather small for a weeklong journey. Yuuri had heard of packing light, but this seemed obscene.

“Is that going to be enough stuff?” Yuuri asked.

Mila smiled. “Don't worry about me. Do you have everything you need?”

Yuuri glanced at the bags at his feet. One held all the armor Victor had loaned him. The other was Yuuri's own bag, containing a few changes of clothes, a bedroll, some basic but necessary supplies, and Yuuri’s stash of material components for spells. On a whim, he'd strapped his lute to the back of the pack. Even if no one wanted the music, it felt nice to have the option.

Yuuri shivered despite the warmth. This area of the castle was better insulated than most of it, in an attempt to better keep the books safe from temperature fluctuations and the damp, but he just couldn't seem to get warm.

“I hope it doesn't snow,” Yuuri muttered, casting his eyes toward the small windows high up in the walls, set deep into eaves.

“It won't,” Mila answered.

“You sound confident,” Yuuri said. He looked back to face her, and she smiled prettily.

“Well of course I do. I know for a fact it won't snow. Victor always forgets about weather and things like that, so I took a look and reminded him. There won't be any bad weather for the next few days, at least.”

Yuuri leaned forward, placing the palms of his hands flat onto the table. “How do you know that?”

Mila chuckled. “I'm a divination wizard, haven't I told you?” she said. “I can see the future. To an extent. I am still wrong sometimes.” She glared at the table. “Sometimes.”

“That's amazing!” Yuuri said. “How does it work?”

Mila shrugged, like it was nothing. “I get these occasional visions. Mostly just brief flashes of things that haven't happened yet. I don't know what they are or what they mean, always, but I usually can figure it out throughout the day and use it to my advantage. This morning, I saw myself forgetting my favorite scarf when we left.”

Mila grinned and pulled a length of crimson knitting out of the top of her bag, before stuffing it back where it belonged.

The others arrived soon enough, and Mila shouldered her bag and stuck a book under her arm instead of a greeting.

“We’re ready to head out,” Chris said.

Chris and Georgi were dressed similarly to Yuuri and Mila: warmly, bundled up in layers of furs and padding to keep them insulated from the cold. Victor seemed to have forgotten his, well, everything. Except for the ostentatious-yet-elegant pink, fur-lined cape he had slung over his shoulders, it seemed the only other concession to reasonable dress for the weather was the familiar pair of winter boots.

Yuuri shook his head and grabbed his own bags. Victor knew the weather outside. He lived here. He'd put more clothes on when they left, certainly.

Georgi sniffled distantly, but he seemed a bit more in control of himself today. A bit of adventure seemed to take his mind off the matter. Worry briefly seized Yuuri, but he clenched his hand into a fist and shook it off as best he could.

A blonde woman in a beautiful dress approached them on their way out. She was distantly familiar in appearance, but not anyone Yuuri knew off the top of his head.

She stepped forward, heels clicking noisily against the stone, toward Victor. She cupped her hands around his face. “Please no stupidity out there. I want my son back in one piece. Right?” She looked pointedly at the others.

Mila curtsied prettily, and Chris and Georgi both bowed. Yuuri pitched his body forward quickly, bowing to the queen as well. “Always, your majesty,” Mila replied dutifully.

She kissed Victor’s temple and smiled at Mila. “Have a fun trip.”

Her eyes skated over Chris, over Georgi, where it turned to a slightly pitying expression, and then on to Yuuri. She seemed confused. She didn't comment, instead turning away.

Victor led them out to the stables, where horses were already prepared and ready to leave. Yuuri was glad his was the smallest. Even so, the beast stood head and shoulders above the little pony he'd ridden back home.

His whole body trembled from his new perch. The others were quite comfortable where they were. Guards made way for them, and just like that, the journey began.

There were several ways of moving between the castle grounds and the rest of the city, and the path Victor had chosen led them directly into the forest. The sky was miserable and grey above them. Trees barely broke the sharp bluster of wind as they entered the forest proper, sticking to the dirt path between the trees.

“The first day should be easy riding,” Victor said. He was sitting a little straighter on his white stallion, shoulders back and a smile on his face. He was radiant, like the morning sun rising through a dark night.

“Thieves would be stupid to try and steal from us during the daylight,” Chris said. “So relax, Yuuri.”

Yuuri hadn't even realized he was holding the reins in a white-knuckle grip. The tawny horse was a little skittish beneath him. No doubt, it could sense his distress and seemed less than inclined to carry him. “I… I am relaxed,” Yuuri choked.

The forest was crisp and sharp, a wilder version of the winter garden in the castle. What little grass was left was dead and brown, buried under leaves and broken sticks. Last week’s cold snap brought a fine crust of ice along the edges of the leaves.

Yuuri felt so exposed.

When he and Minako had traveled to Mavioy, they'd ridden in a carriage the whole way, and had been accompanied by a group of Lord Asahi’s own men. The protection detail was simply to ensure that Lord Asahi’s men would be in the capital city of Corrusva before the event, but they also kept an eye out for the collective safety of the entourage.

Now they were four young men and a woman riding alone down a dirt path. They weren't inconspicuous, either. Yuuri didn't care how confident Chris was. Their group made an enticing target, with the fine clothing and jewels. No one carried weapons, either, except for the bow on Chris’s back and the sword at Georgi’s hip.

Still, they cut an impressive figure as they traveled. There was a certain aesthetic in the gentle movement of Victor’s furlined cape as it fluttered behind him, something indescribably princely and beautiful. Chris, close by his side, held his shoulders back and his smile easy and alluring. He and Victor were chatting about something. Victor laughed.

Mila was humming a song to herself. Her fingers conducted the notes, bouncing in a slightly off-rhythm way.

Georgi was holding himself together. He was looking forward with determination steeling his gaze. He noticed Yuuri's glance and slowed his horse until they rode beside one another. He didn't say anything. Yuuri appreciated the gesture all the same.

“I'm sorry about Katya,” Yuuri said.

“Me too,” Georgi said. He sniffled a little. From a pocket, he withdrew a slightly soiled handkerchief, and he blew his nose. “Thank you for your sympathy.”

They rode in silence for a time, and Yuuri was content to watch. Mila thumbed through her spellbook, muttering words under her breath like a pre-test review session. Chris and Victor were happily talking. It was some story about a serving girl Chris had taken a shine to last week, but was now bored of.

Three hours passed, and Yuuri could see the weather biting at everyone’s noses. Everyone, of course, except for Victor, who looked entirely unaffected. He wasn't even trying to bundle the cloak around him, instead letting it flap majestically from his shoulders in a way that rendered it largely useless.

“Doesn't he get cold?” Yuuri asked, leaning a little closer to Georgi.

“Hmm, Victor?” Georgi replied. “No, not that I know of.”

“Not ever? He doesn't even look bothered at all by the wind.”

Georgi smiled a little, a sad little crook at the corner of his lip. “Not that I can remember in the last, oh… eight years? When he was fifteen, we once found him asleep in a snowdrift, happy as a lark. He's a creature of the winter, though. He was even born on the day of the Winter’s Crest, fittingly enough. He carries the snow in his hair and the ice in his eyes. I guess it's only natural for him.”

“You've got a way with words,” Yuuri said. His eyes flicked toward Victor, who was now laughing at a story of Mila’s.

The first day, as promised, was largely uninteresting. They set up camp a short ways off the road. Georgi built up a quick fire, and it burnt hot and bright by the time night fell. Everyone welcomed the warmth.

Riding a horse was more tiring than most people thought, and it worked muscles in ways Yuuri didn't usually use them.

“Having fun yet?” Mila teased, winking. “Or is your ass just sore?”

“Definitely sore,” Yuuri confessed, running his hand over his back. “But I'm actually having fun. It's cold, but it's nice to get some fresh air. I was starting to go a little stir crazy in that castle. No offense.”

“None taken!” Victor chirped. Everyone else was moving sluggishly, a bit worn by the long day of riding, but Victor was still walking with a bounce in his step. “Drives me crazy, too! It’s so good to be out here,” he sighed. His arms outstretched and he spun around a few time, savoring the feeling of the cool twilight running over his skin.  

Georgi squatted down beside the flames, warming his gloved hands. “How much further is Trisken?”

“We’re on track,” Chris reported. “We made good progress today. If we don’t see it late tomorrow, it’ll be the day after that. Coping alright?”

“I still see her face in my dreams,” Georgi moaned.

Victor patted him on the shoulder. “A bit of adventure will be good for you. Get your mind off it.” Georgi nodded, numb.

“Let’s get some rest, we’ve got an early morning tomorrow,” Mila said.  

Chris nodded. “Good plan.” He laid his things out close to the fire.

Victor flopped to the ground, leaning against one of the nearby trees, a short ways further from the fire than the others were comfortable with. “I'll keep watch!” he announced.

“Good, don't wake me up unless something's trying to kill us,” Mila said.

Georgi nodded and made himself comfortable, settling in with a locket with a charcoal drawing of a woman with braided hair. Yuuri assumed it was Katya from the broken engagement. He held it close and curled up, sniffling softly once more.

“Good night everyone,” Chris cooed. “And if anyone feels like cuddling for warmth, I'm always here.”

“No thanks,” Mila groused. She buried her face into the sleeve of her robes. Her blankets curled in her hands.  

Yuuri hesitated by the fireside. He hadn’t slept in days and he was exhausted from the ride, but he knew he had no chance of sleeping. The forest was alive. He could hear it, just under the snap crackle of the fire licking along the snow-damp logs. He slowly bedded down near the flames.

Hours seemed to pass. Yuuri turned over. He fidgeted. The restlessness was so familiar. Even his burning eyes didn’t help.

“Aren't you going to sleep, Yuuri?” Victor asked, barely above a whisper so as not to disturb the others. Yuuri twitched. No more point pretending, it seemed. Yuuri looked to the source of the voice. Victor was watching him. Through the dim light, the fire burning low and crackling softly, his blue eyes reflected the light out of the gloom like a cat’s. “Not tired?”

“Guess not,” Yuuri whispered back. He kept his voice low to match. “What time is it?”

“Time for you to sleep, áre,” Victor said. The eyes narrowed with a smile. “Just past midnight.”

Yuuri sat up, shivering. Night left the air even colder, and his nose felt like ice. “Aren’t you tired? Who takes watch after you do?” Yuuri asked.

Victor shrugged. “No one. I keep watch. It’s my job.” He patted the span of dead grass beside him. Yuuri wrapped his blanket around his shoulders and joined him so the odds of waking the others would lessen. Beside Victor, he maintained a small buffer zone of air between them, despite the chill.

“But when do you sleep?” Yuuri asked.

Victor laughed, so quietly Yuuri almost missed it. “That’s the mystery, isn't it?”

“You can't just stay up all night.”

Yuuri could think of a thousand terrible things that could happen if Victor didn't sleep, least of which included going the wrong way, being attacked and being too tired to retaliate, or him falling asleep in the middle of his watch. And if nobody was keeping watch, the gods only knew what would happen then. Possibly nothing, but also possibly thieves, wild animals, monsters, murders, or whatever else called this forest home.

Victor waved the comment off with a wink. “Don't worry about me, áre, although I appreciate the concern. If Georgi of all people can be calm about the arrangement, surely there's nothing to worry about.”

Yuuri eyed the dark-haired man’s shuddering bedroll. “I feel bad for him,” he whispered. “He seemed so upset.”

“Love is dangerous,” Victor said. His eyes were directed toward Georgi, who was in the process of crying himself to sleep. “It's all sharp barbs of ice and nothing but pain.”

“Who broke your heart?” Yuuri muttered. He hadn't meant to say it aloud, but it crossed his lips as soon as it crossed his mind.

Victor half smiled, not insulted in the least. “No one. I've actually never had time for it myself. And I'd never cared to, either. I see only pain for those who truly love. Like Georgi here.”

“Surely your parents-”

“A marriage of prosperity, arranged by their own parents. They never met until the night of their wedding. They get along, but there is no love. They simply know that their cooperation is what is best for the kingdom.” The wind had nothing on the icy bluntness of Victor’s words, the flat affect with which he spoke them. Dispassionate and dead.

It was almost bitter.

“Surely there's been… someone. At some point.”

Victor shrugged. “As a child, I might have had a passing fondness for the pretty young nursemaid who cared for me. But then I saw what a broken heart leaves behind, and, well,” Victor mentioned, gesturing back to Georgi.

The man had finally started to still, his breath leveling out with sleep. Yuuri skimmed his fingers over the dead leaves. They crackled louder than their voices dared to rise.

“Showing that kind of weakness to someone else… it only gives them the chance to rip out your heart.”

“Oh,” Yuuri said softly. He looked up from the corners of his eyes. “So… I guess you and Chris never…?”

“We have,” Victor hummed. “But we both know it meant nothing.” It raised more questions than answers, but Yuuri chose to let the comment remain. “What about you?” Victor asked. “Any lovers? Past relationships?”

“N-no comment,” Yuuri stuttered, blushing. He looked away. Victor hummed in delight. Yuuri pulled his blanket closer around his shoulders and stood. “I… I'm suddenly tired, so, good night,” he said quickly. Victor smiled.

“Good night, áre bahmátva.”

* * *

Victor watched Yuuri fall asleep.

The weird clenching in Victor's chest was something new, something Victor had never felt before and held traces of genuine pain laced along the edges. It had only started in the last few days, and only when Victor was beside Yuuri.

At first, he hadn't noticed the relationship between the sensation and Yuuri. He figured it was something to do with Mila’s mischief. But after spending the entire day riding nearby the dark-haired man, the strange ache growing steadily more annoying, Victor was left with no other explanations.

Because the ache wasn't the most confusing part of all of it. Despite the pain, there was still the strange urge to speak to him. Sit beside him. Yuuri's lack of judgement made it so easy for Victor to feel comfortable around him, enough so to show off his less reserved side, the kind that didn't hesitate and impulsively danced, smiled, and laughed without a care for what others thought.

The pain worsened with every one of Yuuri’s smiles.

The spikes of it were like ice. Victor remembered what the cold felt like. It had been years, but the sharpness of it all was unforgettable. It was like that now, the coldness wreathing his heart. But where Victor was frozen, the little peasant dancer had a spark within him, something incorruptible and pure. A shining sun.

It almost made Victor envious. But no, that wasn't it at all. Because _he_ had made Victor untouchable. _He_ had made Victor into something that couldn't be hurt.

And Yuuri, fragile and pretty Yuuri, was vulnerable to the failings of the heart. Just like Georgi, who still foolishly mourned his cheating ex-fiancé. Like Chris, who gleefully gave his heart to a new pretty face each week without ever once looking back, and who suffered at the hands of the previous lovers for his efforts. Like Mila, whose heart was held a thousand miles away in the hands of another, and mourned its loss so quietly that no one but Victor knew.

Love made them all weak, and Victor had seen all too well the dangers of a shattered heart. It was a good thing he was incapable of it. It kept him alive this long.

He kept watch the rest of the night, and he spent much of it simply staring at the slow rise and fall of Yuuri’s bedroll. Now if he could just get this damned pain to go away, maybe make sense of the strange curling magic clenching around his insides like a fist, he could focus on the mission at hand.


	9. The Wolf Hunt Begins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri learns some interesting things from some of the locals. 
> 
> In the woods, discoveries are made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huh. Interesting rolls. I'll include a glossary of Elvish terms in the end notes, but beware spoilers if you're hopping down there before finishing the chapter. Thanks, as always, for the comments and kudos and everything else!

The cold seemed to settle bone deep by the next morning, despite the layers of fabric holding in what warmth they could. Yuuri snapped awake feeling moderately rested.  The cold made falling back asleep impossible, so Yuuri rolled to an upright position and glanced around the camp. Victor smiled. 

“Morning!”

“Good morning,” Yuuri muttered, rubbing his eyes in disbelief. The man’s hair was a little mussed, but his eyes were bright and he seemed entirely unaffected by either the cold or the possible  sleepless night. “Did you sleep at all?” 

“Do I look like I did?” Victor replied, smiling mysteriously and putting a finger to his lips. He hopped to his feet. “Whenever the others wake up, we’ll move out. Let's get started on breakfast, then, yes?”

Yuuri looked back at the sleeping group, and he nodded. The fire was barely a bed of cinders now, almost dead. He shivered. “I'm going to find some more wood for the fire.” 

Victor looked at the fire. “Oops, I forgot to feed it. Sorry, Yuuri!” he laughed. 

Victor was in a good mood, it seemed, because he hopped to his feet and joined Yuuri on the hunt for more sticks and branches. He wasn't a lot of help, exactly, and he kept finding pieces that were too wet to do anything with, but his enthusiasm was a pleasant surprise. 

“You don't make a lot of fires, do you?” Yuuri asked.

Victor shrugged. “It's usually Georgi’s job.”

“I thought so.”

Yuuri rebuilt the pile of sticks and stepped back. He muttered the word under his breath, a gentle breath of, “kaivolkalma.” A little mote of fire flared to life in his palm. He tossed it into the pile so everything could ignite. 

“You're a puzzle, Yuuri Katsuki,” Victor said. 

Yuuri flushed. Was he making fun of Yuuri’s choice of wording for the spell?

“H-how much elvish do you know?” Yuuri’s verbal triggers were his own, unique to him and, in addition, entirely in elvish. 

It was a musical language, rich and varied and poetic, and it lended itself well to songs and spellcasting. You'd be hard pressed to find someone who couldn't speak at least a word or two of the language, and its idioms and expressions were occasionally adapted to the common tongue, but Minako insisted on fluency. It was her native tongue, and she'd be damned if Yuuri butchered it. Finding others who spoke it to a similar degree, however…

Victor grinned. “I'm better than you, I bet.”

Yuuri smelled a challenge. He switched languages, tongue fumbling for the words only briefly as he focused his mind towards elvish. It was a full mental transition, and required a definite headspace. “Is that so? I've spoken it for much of my life, and I'm not allowed to speak common during training. My instructor would slap the backs of my hands if I tried.”

“Minako Okukawa, correct? Mother was upset that she couldn't convince the famous danseur to join the entertainment. Where is she these days?”

“In your castle,” Yuuri snorted, grinning just a bit. He always felt a little bolder in Elvish. It was an exposure thing, he was certain, because he often spoke Elvish only when he was feeling confident and beautiful. He and Minako limited it to their studio time out of consideration for the rest of the village, and as a result, it was forever and inextricably linked the powerful feeling of being in control that came when Yuuri danced. 

Victor blinked owlishly in surprise. “What do you mean?” 

“She came here with me. She would never miss an opportunity to drink lords and soldiers under the table, and she loves a party. Lord Asahi said he secured her an invitation. Did he not announce her?”

“Lord Asahi neglected,” Victor said, grinning. “Hmm… I would like to keep this a surprise, then. Mother would be delighted to make her acquaintance. And I, of course, will need to thank both her and Lord Asahi when he arrives.”

“What for?” Yuuri asked. 

Victor winked. “For sending you.”

Yuuri glanced away, biting back the color in his cheeks and telling himself it was just the cold. For someone who seemed to despise love, Victor was an incorrigible flirt. Yuuri hoped he wasn't intending to lure Yuuri to bed, as he would be sorely disappointed. 

The others eventually woke up, breakfast was cooked and eaten, and the horses were readied for the next leg of the journey. Yuuri donned his armor as a precaution, and Victor did as well. Where Yuuri looked like a child wearing his dad’s padded leather, all misshapen and mismatched and worn, Victor was every inch the princely figure. His fur lined cloak settled neatly over his shoulders. He stepped into the stirrups of the saddle and swung a leg over his white stallion, whistling as he did so.

“Right then, let's head out! Daylight is burning!”

Yuuri stuck next to Mila, who was yawning and still nodding in her saddle. The spellbook was loose in her fingers. She almost lost it twice that Yuuri had seen, and possibly more that he hadn't. 

The world smelled of thick wintergreen and pine, and the cold air was bitingly sharp. Yuuri leaned on his saddle, sleepy. If it wasn't for the soft murmur of conversation ahead and the distant, fluttering songs of morning birds, Yuuri would have nodded off right beside Mila. 

“What all do we know about the wolves?” Yuuri asked, trying to keep awake. He yawned into his hand. 

“Victor said we've lost three squads to them,” Mila replied. She hummed tiredly. “Man, I just don't feel rested in these woods.”

“Me neither,” Yuuri agreed. “Three? Were they even armed?”

“They were small groups, but well trained,” Chris said. He slowed so that he was between Yuuri and Mila.  “They travel in groups of six and can be mobilized and sent wherever they're needed. By all accounts, any one of those groups should have dealt with the wolves without issue. Which is why we need to be on our guard. We could be facing larger than usual numbers, which would account for the large death toll of both peasants and livestock.”

“Maybe the wolves are almost wiped out,” Mila yawned. “Maybe they only missed a few.”

“I guess we'll find out!” Victor said. 

Yuuri hadn't been entirely certain the first night. After the second, he was. Victor didn't sleep. And it was starting to look like it wasn't impacting him at all. Yuuri could only hope it wouldn't be a problem later.  

It was mid afternoon of the next day before they broke into a clearing in trees. The giant mill wheel in the river was the first sign of civilization in two days, and Yuuri was glad to see it. 

“Almost there,” Chris reported. “Shouldn't be more than a mile out.”

“Great job,” Victor said. 

As they continued, Yuuri noticed a boy peeking out from behind one of the thick needled trees.   “I think I see a kid,” Yuuri said. The child must have heard, because he ducked back behind the tree. If the branches had been less widely spaced, or the needles thicker, it was possible he would have disappeared into the forest. But as it was, it looked like a person hiding behind a tree, and not very well at that. 

“One of the locals,” Mila said. “Hi! Do you know the way to Trisken?” she called out in a slightly louder voice, glancing toward where the boy was standing. He crept out slowly, pointing a finger down the path to where a small wooden bridge arced over the river. “Thanks!” Mila waved, and the boy ducked back behind the tree, not even bothering to respond. “Cute kid,” she said.

“A little rude,” Chris sniffed. 

“He's probably just shy. Like Yuuri!” Mila said, smiling at Yuuri. Yuuri forced a smile back. “Come on, I want to spend at least one night in a bed before we have to go tramping around these woods. I hate hunting for wolves.”

They rode on. The distant plume of smoke drew rapidly closer, and soon the path opened up into a small village. The sleepy little town was maybe a quarter the size of Yuuri’s, maybe less. What few people there were in the town’s main thoroughfare openly stared as the group passed. 

“They're staring,” Yuuri muttered. 

“They do that,” Mila said. Yuuri tried to put himself into the village’s shoes, and he felt slightly better. Hasetsu might have been larger, but it still didn't get that much in the way of travelers. Anyone new was interesting and strange, and not always in a good way. Yuuri had spent his fair share of time openly staring at wealthy passersby and roaming vagrants alike. 

That was just for normal people. A group like this would have never been seen in Hasetsu. 

“That looks like an inn,” Chris said. “Georgi and I can grab rooms for us and take care of the horses if you want to start asking residents about the problem.” 

Victor nodded. “Sounds good to me. Split up, fan out. We need to figure out anything we can about what’s going on over here.” 

Mila tossed her reins to Georgi and dragged Yuuri from his horse. “Right, you're with me.”

“Waiiit,” Victor whined. He left his horse to Georgi and jogged after them. Mila laughed. 

The first place they went to was the tavern attached to the inn. Mila pushed the door open, and Yuuri’s first impression was of a small but cozy room, not crowded but not empty either, and certainly not quiet. There was laughter, conversation, and music. It was predominantly human inside, but Yuuri did spot a dwarf nursing a beer in the back. 

Yuuri’s second impression was of silence as the patrons took notice of the new arrivals. The music petered out, conversations died, and all eyes tracked over to them. Yuuri cowered nervously. 

“Hello!” Victor said, smiling his stiff, public smile. “I am here about the wolves. I hear they've been giving this town some grief lately. Does anyone have any information about the problem they'd be willing to share?” The quiet was uneasy. One by one, the bar’s patrons looked to their glasses, burying all conversation in long drinks. 

“Hmm… strange,” Mila said. 

Victor nodded. “It's like they don't want to talk to us,” he said. They took places along the bar, and Yuuri found himself tucking his chin into his scarf and watching the people watch them. 

Victor flashed his winning, princely smile at the bartender, a stocky man with a thick mane of hair and matching mustache and beard, the entirety of which was coarse, dark brown, and peppered with flecks of grey. “This is Trisken, correct?”

The bartender narrowed his eyes. The bar was spotless, weathered but gleaming, but still the bartender made slow rotations with his rag, polishing the wood. “And what if it is?” His voice crackled like flame, deep and rough, like a rasp. 

“Like I said, we’re here for those wolves. I heard there was a problem?” Victor leaned forward, and the tone was smooth and rolling, a persuasive thing that had Yuuri unconsciously hanging on his words. 

“Nothin’ yeh need to concern yourself with,” the bartender said sharply. He turned his back, snatching a clean glass from a shelf and starting to clean it, too. A nervous gesture. “Pack up and leave now, if yah know what’s good for yeh. Those wolves ain't anythin’ anyone needs to be messin’ with.”

“So there are wolves,” Mila said, smiling. 

The bartender's expression darkened, but his eyes darted quickly around the room. “Look,” he said. “Ain't nothin’ here that needs messin’. Go on home to your castle.” He eyed Victor, muttering under his breath, “yeh fuckin’ changelin’.”

Yuuri frowned, but it seemed like Victor didn't hear, or didn't care. His smile was as pristine as before. Mila slid a piece of gold across the bar. Then another. She smiled the way Victor did, matching him down to the quirk in the corner of her lip. She added a third gold, as Yuuri’s eyes bugged. In a town like this, a single gold could have probably easily bought a week’s worth of board. 

“Now, there's no need for that kind of language,” she said pleasantly. “How about some drinks? It's been a long journey here, and I don't know about them, but I'll take whatever you've got.”

The man glared at the gold. For a moment, it seemed (incredibly) as though he might refuse it. His gaze shifted slowly across the bar. Mila added a fourth and fifth.

He swept the gold tidily into his pocket, before he resumed wiping down his bar where the gold had sat. “Well at least someone around here speaks Common,” the man grumbled. 

He poured out three steins of ale, foaming lightly at the top, and slid them into place.

“Look,” he said at last. The rag turned slow circles. “Yer not goin’ to get anythin’ out of this trip. Yah don't seem like bad folk, but really. You'd be better off packin’ up and headin’ back to yer fancy castle. Yeh might be travelin’ with a prince, but that don’t mean people gonna give you the time o’ day here.”

Yuuri watched the turns of regret and frustration play out across the bartender’s face. There was something else, though. Something underneath. 

Victor sighed, taking a long drink. He glanced at the ceiling. “Still, we should at least try. Mila, Yuuri, when you're finished, let’s split up. Ask around. Someone might have something they’d be willing to share.” Victor stood.

He grumbled something under his breath that Yuuri missed. Yuuri drank a bit too quickly to catch up with them. It was a weak drink, but it still left him a little light in the head when he stood. Mila and Victor seemed largely unaffected. 

“Why don't you stick around here?” Victor said to Mila. “We need to know what areas the wolves frequent, the extent of the damages the people here have suffered, and anything we can about numbers and strength of the pack. If they've got a favorite food source, we might be able to set a trap.”

Mila nodded. “Sounds good! If this doesn't work out, I might poke around a few other shops nearby.”

“Great. Let's meet back here in a few hours with with we’ve found. Yuuri, you can take the rest of town to the west. I'll talk to Georgi and Chris, let them know about the plan. I'll look North. Chris and Georgi and decide between themselves who gets what direction.”

Yuuri nodded. “O-okay,” he said. Splitting up gave him a bad feeling, but at the same time, the attention that Victor was attracting wasn't exactly a wonderful thing either. At least Yuuri, despite the ring on his finger, looked just like everyone else here. He nodded. “I- I’ll do my best.”

They went their separate ways. 

Away from Victor, the people began to warm up slightly. Or at least, they stared less. Yuuri didn't seem as strange, he figured. He was more at home here than in the castle, anyway, and it was a comfortable thing to stretch his legs on the quiet dirt paths of town, picking his way between the small, thatch-roof hovels. 

Every small town had a certain feel to it, something that made it feel close and tight, something between aloof and secretive that didn't like outsiders. Even if the architecture was different, the personality was much the same. Colder, even, than Hasetsu.

Trisken was impersonal and unwelcoming, but it had its softness, too. Yuuri wandered the streets quietly through the midwinter’s noon. The stares lessened the further from the main square he got. He was still pointedly ignored, but it was less a sign of insult and more that they seemed harried and busy. He stopped a woman on the street who didn't seem to be in a particular rush. 

“Excuse me, do you have a moment?” he asked. She looked him up and down critically, and Yuuri flushed. “Please, I just had a few questions. Maybe you could answer them?”

Maybe it was something in his eyes, or the fact that Yuuri probably looked as lost as he currently felt, but the woman’s expression softened. “Alright, fine, but come with me. Too cold out here for chatting, and you look frozen to the bone.”

She beckoned him along, and Yuuri followed along easily enough. Her home was a small place, no larger than any of the other nearby hovels, but the inside was warm. She kissed the cheek of a swarthy man as she stepped inside the door. 

“Come in for tea, dear,” she said. She dropped a kettle onto a fire. “Call me Iriné. This is my husband, Resiom.” Even with the midwinter season, the man, tall and heavily muscled, clearly had spent a great deal of time working in the sun. His hands were darker than the rest of him, stained by years of working the earth. 

“Yuuri,” he said gently, introducing himself. “Nice to meet you.”

“Where you from?” Resiom asked. The man nodded, settling into a creaking chair. 

“A small town far from here. It's not far from the Saga mountains, if you know where those are.” Resiom shook his head. “Probably not. There's an ocean between here and there.”

The man’s eyes widened marginally. “Quite far, I'd say. There isn't a sea anywhere within a week of here. What brings you all the way out here?”

“I've been… ah, asked to do a favor for someone,” Yuuri said. “To be honest, I don't know what I'm doing here. But we split up at that tavern, and I don't really know what to do.”

“You had questions?” Irené said. She busied herself with preparations for the tea. Yuuri accepted a chipped mug with a warm smile. 

“Ah, thank you, you're too kind. Yes. I heard there were some troubles with livestock, lately? I don’t really know what’s going on, but-”

“Who told you?” she said. Her hands were shaking, and her expression had gone cold. Yuuri blinked. The sudden change was the last thing he’d been expecting.

Yuuri took a slow drink. “Nobody. That’s why I was asking around. Is everything alright here?”

“Fine. Just fine,” Iriné said stiffly. 

Yuuri took a long drink of his tea. It was sweet, a little oddly flavored, and had a little thicker consistency than he was used to. Odd, but not unpleasant. As he watched, Iriné finished making her own tea, finishing it off the way she had to Yuuri’s, with a little scoop of fruit preserve.  Her hands were shaking as she drank. 

“Is it that scary?” Yuuri asked gently. Iriné looked toward her husband. The fear was mirrored there. But for him, it was different. There was a rawer kind of horror, something barely hidden behind wide eyes and clenched fists. It seemed obvious, suddenly. “You’ve seen them, haven’t you?”

Resiom went pale. 

Iriné yanked the curtains closed, eyeing the open expanse outside briefly before returning. “And if he has?” she said, daring Yuuri to say something. 

“I have friends who want to fight them. Take them out. But they want to be prepared when they do. They want information.” 

Iriné laughed, but not happily. It was cold and miserable and cruel. “Take them out?” she scoffed. “Please. The crown sent their finest soldiers. These aren’t normal wolves. Normal wolves don’t… do this.” The coldness slackened. The fear was so overwhelming. She held herself, shaking, as she shook her head. “No. It’s just. This isn’t right. It’s not… natural.  But as long as we don’t fight back, they don’t kill us. Take our livelihoods, maybe, make meals of our sheep and goats and cows, perhaps, but at least they don’t kill us. Not as much as before.”

“We have an agreement,” Resiom said quietly. 

“How do you make an agreement with a wolf?” Yuuri asked, trying his best not to sound as condescending as he suspected he did. This would have been a hilariously silly joke, if it wasn’t for the cold horror on their faces. 

“I don’t know. Only a few people have made it back alive. But… they tell stories. I… I shouldn’t say any more,” Iriné said. She peeked out the curtains again. “They don’t like us talking about them. It’s like… they know. I don’t know what anyone else in town has told you, but you’re better off forgetting this nonsense. If the crown’s men couldn’t stop them, your friends don’t stand a chance. Tell them to pack up and head back out.” 

“But why?” Yuuri asked. “What do the wolves do?”

Iriné shook her head. “I really can’t say any more. You wouldn’t believe me if I did.” Yuuri tried to ask for more information, but she had closed herself off completely. Yuuri sighed and finished the last of his tea. An idea occurred to him. 

“Um. If you don’t mind… I had a few other questions?” She looked at him suspiciously, and Yuuri put his hands up defensively. “Not about the wolves, or anything! Ah, it’s about this country. Actually, it’s about the prince? The fourth prince,” Yuuri specified.

Iriné eyed him. If her expression was any indication, she was just appreciative for the change of subject. “The odd one out. A lot of foreigners get interested in him, for some reason. Probably because he goes gallivanting around outside the borders, making up crazy stories along the way.”   


“What kind of stories?” Yuuri asked. “I’ve only ever heard the one of him going missing when he was younger.”

Resiom took a long, deep breath. “It’s all nonsense. I’ll give him, he’s a very talented young man. We would have lost the war against Forrinin if not for him. General Yakov is a legend himself, but that feyling prince is something entirely different.”

“Feyling?” Yuuri asked. The barkeep had called Victor a ‘changeling’. Changeling wasn’t something Yuuri had heard before, but the fey meant fairies, and Yuuri had heard plenty of stories on them. 

“Well, the fairies took him,” Iriné said with a shrug. “How do we know we got the right one back? I’ve heard he’s got hair as white as newfallen snow. Just isn’t natural. It’s the mark of the fairies, everyone knows it. From what I gather, it’s left him a bit… odd.”

“Odd how?” Yuuri pressed. Odder than sleepless nights with Victor smiling up at the moon, claiming he was keeping watch? His love of the cold? There was no question Victor was weird, but Yuuri was certain things like those weren’t common knowledge. 

Both made small, dismissive gestures. “Just stories,” Iriné said. “It’s things like… well, they say his heart got frozen. One of the stories says the fairies fed him their food, and it changed him. Others say the real Prince is still in the Feywild, and we got back a changeling instead, a fairy pretending to be the original.”

“I mean, I've heard other people think he's strange, but I didn't know it ran this deep. Does everyone think that?” 

“Some,” Resiom said. “To be honest, I assumed they were just stupid stories. But the things I've seen…” He shook his head. “There's real evil in the world. I don't know what to think anymore. Either way, something about him isn't right. And most anyone you ask will tell you the same thing. He's not like his brothers. It could be good, or bad, but it is what it is.”

Resiom stared into the fireplace. 

“So, a man like you all the way out here. Think you could tell us some stories about where you're from? Never got to travel much. Always wanted to, but someone had to watch over the old family farm. Roads are dangerous, too. ‘Course, everywhere is dangerous these days…”

The haunted look returned, and Yuuri was quick to fill the sudden silence with stories of Hasetsu. The small town breathed and lived much the way this place did. A little offshoot of the crown, a town that carved a life from sending food up the way to the kingdom far away. 

Of course the two would have different personalities. Trisken felt colder. Maybe it was the lack of familiarity, but it felt colder. Maybe it was the dark look of hopelessness on the faces of those who lived here. 

Yuuri thanked them profusely for their time and for the tea when it was, at last, time to leave. 

“Your friends are fools to fight the wolves,” Resiom said, just as Yuuri made it to the doorway. “Don't forget to tell them that.”

Yuuri nodded, lowering his eyes as he left. A part of him screamed that he was making a mistake. That there was no way they'd make it out alive. Another part was curious. Victor and the others were confident, and that itself was calming. And even if things went sideways, he had an ace in the hole. There were always back up plans to be had for those who were cowardly enough to need them. 

Yuuri just had to make sure he didn't panic and mess it all up. 

Yuuri wandered his way back through the little town, finding the tavern and inn easily enough. He glanced around, but no one was in sight. He picked his way over to the barkeep. “Excuse me, but-”

“They're upstairs,” the man growled.

Yuuri bowed his head. “Thank you.” The stairs were rickety things, creaking ominously as he climbed, but he eventually reached the much sturdier landing with a bit of relief. There were several rooms up here, each with a closed door concealing their contents. Yuuri paused at the landing. Which…?

A door to the left cracked open, and Mila’s face peered through. She smiled. “Yuuri, in here.” She beckoned him inside, and the door closed firmly behind them both. 

The others, save for Chris, were already inside. “There you are,” Victor said. “We were starting to wonder if you'd somehow gotten lost!” He laughed a little. 

“Chris isn't back?” Yuuri asked.  

“He got in touch. He’ll be back later. He's checking out one of the sites of the attack, and he's trying to find any clues. Did you find anything out, Yuuri?”

“Nothing too helpful,” Yuuri said. He glanced at the floor. They all seemed so excited. The news he had wouldn't sit well. “The couple I spoke to… they said the wolves were… different.”

“Someone actually talked to you?” Mila said. She looked thoroughly surprised. 

Yuuri nodded. “Y-yeah, did no one talk to you?”

“Nope,” Mila said. “Victor said people ran away from him, and a lot of people outright ignored Georgi and me.”

Ran away? Yuuri glanced at Victor, but he was still smiling happily. Privately, Yuuri wondered if any of them had called Victor any other names. 

“What did you hear?” Georgi asked. His eyes were red and his cheeks were puffy, but the scratchiness of his voice seemed less than it did earlier than it did in the day, so Yuuri would consider it progress. “You said the wolves were different, right? What do you mean by ‘different’? Were they a little bigger? A little meaner?”

“They wouldn't elaborate much. They were terrified, though. They said the town had… I guess an agreement, is what he said?” Yuuri said doubtfully. 

“Yuuri, they're just wild animals,” Mila said. “If it were people, I could understand an agreement, but it isn't. They're just big, mean dogs.”

“I think they mean that maybe the wolves only hunt certain areas?” Yuuri speculated. “Like, if they avoid those areas, they don't get hurt?”

“Except we don't know those areas,” Victor said. He tapped his lips with his forefinger. His head tilted a little to the side, considering the situation. “Chris might have found one, but we can't be certain.”

“Still,” Yuuri said with a long sigh. “The other thing they said was that the wolves were… really dangerous. That we shouldn't fight them.”

Georgi chuckled through his quiet tears. “As if any of us would just leave this town to its fate.”

“Exactly,” Mila said. She slammed her fist down on the bedside table. “We do this to help. And anyway, we've fought much worse creatures than wolves. I don't care how many there are. You're not getting hurt. None of us are.”

Yuuri was having his doubts. But then again, wasn't that always the case? Everyone was always more sure of things than Yuuri was, no matter how much as he hated it. 

Victor clapped a hand over his shoulder. “Relax, Yuuri. You're in good hands, and with your help, we shouldn't even have an issue.”

“I still don't know how you expect me to help,” Yuuri muttered mutinously. Victor only smiled. 

* * *

Mila was far happier with the sleeping arrangements than anyone else was. She would- she had a room to herself. Yuuri bunked with Chris, to his surprise. 

The man made it back later with little in the way of solid info. The remains of the attack had been cleared away, and there weren't any footprints. However, the focus of the attacks did seem to start there, and it would be as good a place as any to begin the hunt. 

After the update, they'd eaten a paltry dinner of what little there was available in the village, and then split up. 

Yuuri tried not to get in the way as Chris dropped into one of two beds. “Rest up, early morning tomorrow,” he said. 

“You know,” Yuuri mentioned. “I kind of thought you and Victor would have roomed together.”

“Really?” Chris asked. He quirked up an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

“You two seem… closer than him and Georgi. If that isn't overstepping any lines, of course,” Yuuri said quickly. 

Chris hummed. “You'd think that. But him and Georgi go back a long ways. Sure, Victor and I have, hmm, what’s the word in Common… dabbled around? Yes. Just briefly. Georgi and him have been friends for many years. They're distant at times, but I believe Victor considers him closer than any of his brothers.”

“Huh, I wouldn't have guessed,” Yuuri said.

“No, most wouldn't. Plus, if they’re in the room next door, I get to stay with you, and my if you aren't a pretty one.” His smile turned flirtatious. “You know, these beds might be warmer than sleeping outside but they're still better by far with someone to share them.”

Yuuri laughed. “Very funny.”

“What, you don't think you're beautiful,  _ vanima _ ?” Chris said. His smile was a lure, a thing that drew people in. “I could always show you.”

Yuuri’s own smile slipped away, and Yuuri could feel the white hot embarrassment rising inside of him, bitter as medicine. “You don't have to tease me, Chris. Don't worry, I know I'm not that much to look at.” Yuuri looked away, flushing. 

“Huh?” Chris said. 

“It's fine. Good night, Chris,” Yuuri said. He bit his lip. Chris wasn't trying to be cruel, he told himself. Just joking around, the way he did with the others. Trying to make him feel welcome. Why he wanted to, Yuuri didn't know, but he didn't have to tease the way he did. Yuuri knew he wasn't much to look at. Quiet, mousy, and bookish, hiding behind spectacles and chubbier than most dancers. 

Yuuri pulled the blankets over his head and forced himself to sleep. Exhaustion overtook him soon enough. The build up of the last few days, as well as the relative safety of the latch on the door, left Yuuri more comfortable than he'd been in days. At least now he didn't have to wonder if Victor slept or not. 

In the morning, Yuuri dressed quietly, waiting to put on his armor until it was clear they were leaving. They ate a quiet breakfast downstairs. Victor was still stared at, moreso than anyone else. He attracted attention wherever he went, but unlike Yuuri, he didn't seem bothered. Much, anyway. 

Yuuri hadn't noticed yesterday, but today it seemed so clear. In public, it was like he was encased in a little shell, like a mask he pulled over his face. It fit tight and fluid to his face, unmistakeable from the original, and yet holding none of the joy. The smiles were tighter. And though they reached his eyes just the same, the light wasn't there. Yuuri had seen Victor's smile on the road, and it was something heart-wrenchingly beautiful. In town, under the pressure of the stares and the endless eyes around them, Victor closed off. 

He didn't bounce slightly with every step. There was no joyous roll to his gait, and jaunty little swivel of his hips as he swung around and laughed. This was a wall. And it had taken this long to see it. 

Yuuri watched it fall away on the road, dressing in their armor and mounting their horses while the barkeep called them damned, suicidal fools. Yuuri tried not to feel apprehensive. He failed. 

During the morning, they followed Chris as they canvassed the area, searching for indications of where to go. It wasn't until after their midday meal that Chris came across shallow scars in the earth and specks of blood. The foliage was slightly broken, and the frost was marginally thinner, like a scuffle had taken place. A kill site. 

Disturbances in the surrounding foliage indicated a general direction, and they rode off. It was the best clue they'd gotten all morning, and they worked their way further north, doubling back as necessary to keep an eye on the tracks. 

The air grew colder as they rode, and shimmers of snow shivered in the air. Yuuri’s breath curled, ghostly, in front of his face. Chris led them down paths that Yuuri hadn't known existed, pointing out shallow depressions in the mud that indicated paw prints, even if the ground was too dry to hold a clear mark. His eyes were sharp. Even the slanting sunlight didn't seem to impact his skills. 

“It's getting dark,” Mila said. 

“Should we go back?” Yuuri asked. They didn't get far from the town. 

Victor shook his head. “No, we press on. We don't want to lose the trail-”

“Fuck,” Chris said. Victor looked at him, confused, and Chris offered him a sheepish grin. “I might have lost it while we were talking. It's getting dark!” he said in his defense. 

Victor sighed. “It’s fine. We’ll just press on tomorrow morning. Let's set up camp before it gets too dark to see anything.”

The motions of setting up camp were being in to grow familiar now. Georgi built up a fire, and Yuuri took over the role of the flint and steel by soft-tossing a firebolt into the sticks. It caught easily. 

“I'll take watch,” Victor said. Typical.

Yuuri watched Victor out of the corner of his eyes. He had always seemed a little fey around the edges. There was something deeply magical in his eyes, the gleaming in the darkness that reminded Yuuri of a creature of the night. Some races, like elves, were capable of seeing in extremely low light conditions, and their eyes were luminous and reflective to allow this. Victor seemed to have this too, if Yuuri wasn't mistaken. 

He didn't stumble over the sticks and logs of the forest the way Yuuri did, fumbling with the darkened camp because of the lack of illumination beyond the flickering campfire. Victor didn't fumble through anything. 

Had the fairies really taken him, Yuuri wondered? Fairies were not creatures of this plane of existence. Their home was the Feywild, a world that was, if the stories were correct, a dark mirror of their own world. It was like an overlay over reality, with similar shapes to the land: the same mountains in the same places, oceans were oceans belonged in the Material Plane. Except everything was wild, twisted and gnarled, out of control. A mountain might become a twisting spire made of glass, clawing towards the sky. Oceans might become seas of crimson, blood instead of water. 

It was beautiful, savage, and uncontrollable, just like the fey themselves. 

Would that be Victor, too? He was beautiful, of that, no one could deny. But savage, or uncontrollable? Only time would tell. 

The nerves were getting worse. Yuuri’s hands were shaking by the time camp was set up, and it wasn't from the cold. 

What if the wolves found them before they found the wolves? They could all be killed in their sleep before anyone could so much as raise a sword against them. Even a domesticated dog could maul a man in a horrific way. Wolves were smarter, meaner, and carried a certain desperation for survival. Wolves would be worse. 

Yuuri bedded down close to the fire, shivering. The others were out in minutes. Far and away, Yuuri could hear Victor shifting in his perch beside a tall pine tree. An hour passed, and the fire burned low.

There was a soft scraping crunch of Victor climbing to his feet.  _ Thunk. Thunk.  _ The sound came from the fire, dull and heavy like logs falling into ash, and the crackle of the fire began to build again. The warmth flared. Yuuri peeked an eye open. Victor was prodding the fire with a long stick, stoking it with an empty expression. Victor smiled. 

“Sleep,” Victor said softly, turning his smile briefly toward Yuuri. He returned to his spot on the ground with barely more than a rustle of leaves. Another hour. 

Everything was still. Even the wind seemed muffled, dampened by the thick pines that filled the air with the smell of pinesap. It was heavy and cold and sweet, sharp like knives and as relentless as falling. 

Yuuri heard a distant snap. Then another. Victor picked himself up. Yuuri stilled. Victor seemed to vanish into the dark. 

A hand touched Yuuri’s shoulder. He jolted. A hand clamped over his mouth before he could yelp, and Victor’s pale face loomed above him, dark and smiling. “Shhhh,” he breathed, touching a finger to his lips. He sat back, letting Yuuri up, and beckoned with his finger. “Follow. Quietly as you can.” He held on to Yuuri’s wrist with a light touch. 

Too tired to question, Yuuri rose from the warmth of the bedding, casting one last look over the others. They were deep asleep, unmoving and quiet, save for Mila’s snoring. Victor tugged him gently, and Yuuri followed. His dancer’s training made it easier to keep his footsteps light, rolling softly over the path behind Victor. It was all body control. If his foot came down on a stick, he lifted it back up before he could hear the snap. 

Victor led him around a particularly thick wintergreen and pointed wordlessly. Yuuri glanced around. He had to clamp his hands around his mouth to stifle the gasp. 

The creature was massive, lumbering slowly through the forest. It paused, snuffling noisily, turning its head left and right, before it plodded a few more steps forward. Each footfall crashed noisily into the detritus of sticks and leaves. 

The beast was quadrupedal, but it would occasionally rise onto its hind legs to paw at the higher branches of a tree. Its body was thick with dark brown shaggy fur, save for its head, where the body morphed from bear to bird. Its eyes were lamplike and yellow, framed in tawny feathers that slicked up like horns. It clicked its beak irritably. 

Huge claws extended from paws as large as dinner plates. It made a shrill noise between a hoot and a growl, a low, shrieking sound that chilled Yuuri to the bone. “That’s- is that?” Yuuri whispered. 

Victor grinned. “Yup. Owlbear.”

“It's…” Yuuri breathed, wide eyed and awed. “It's amazing.” It picked its way back up the way a little, still snuffling noisily. It was working its way closer, if not to them, then at least toward camp. Yuuri felt a short wave of worry. If it smelled the food or the fire, it could have attacked their sleeping companions to search it out. Suddenly, the beast froze. “It doesn't see us, does it?” Yuuri said quietly. 

Victor narrowed his eyes. “I don't think so-” The beast let out a shriek, sprinting towards them. “Oh shit. Yuuri, behind me,” Victor said. 

Yuuri barely stumbled a step backward before Victor was throwing up his hands, a faint light shining out of his palms. His fists slammed against each other at the thumbs, like they were holding onto the hilt and scabbard of a sword. But there was nothing in his hands. Yuuri was about to panic when his hands quickly slid apart, and a glint of ice caught the light. 

Victor yanked his fists in opposite directions, unsheathing the sword out of his hand, as though from thin air. It was the work of art from the night in the sparring room, and it was just as cold and beautiful as Victor himself. An explosion of snowflakes showered the ground around them as Victor turned to face the beast, which was rearing back and ready to attack. 

The owlbear bellowed as it drove its beak forward, attempting to gore Victor. He ducked neatly out of the way, bowing again around another strike, this time with its claws. He brought his blade up and slashed twice, both hits striking true against the beast’s furred hide. Thin streaks of frost laced the fur where he hit. Blood spattered the ground. The owlbear let out another shriek and rose back to attack again. There wasn’t even time to think. 

“No!” Yuuri screamed. He clasped his hands together and pushed out, forming a diamond with his thumb and forefinger. “Burn!” 

A torrent of incendiary energy erupted from his hands, licking out in a broad swath from his hands. The beast tried to dodge, but the gout of fire struck true. The sound of its shrieks became louder. The scent of pine was overwhelmed by burning fur. 

The owlbear croaked piteously, glaring up at them from the ground. It was badly burned, and the wounds Victor had left had melted and were bleeding onto the ground. It made another horrible shriek and bolted, retreating with great, lumbering footfalls. 

“Sh-should we-” Yuuri hesitated beside Victor, one foot stepping towards the retreating beast. 

He shook his head. “No, it isn't doing anyone any harm. We probably just invaded its territory, and it was trying to decide what to do about us. Let it lick its wounds. If it's a problem again, we can always deal with it then.” 

Yuuri sighed, trying to get his breathing under control. It had all happened so fast, and yet at the time it felt like each second had stretched into minutes and hours. His heart was pounding. A small wave of exhaustion threatened to overwhelm him. 

“Well,” Yuuri gasped. “That was… that was something.”

Victor grinned. “Silmé,” he breathed, and the sword began to softly glow. Yuuri glanced up at him, suspicious, but the walls were gone and the smile was laid bare. On his face was joy. “You're not the only one who can play this game,” Victor teased. “You did well though. I'm impressed.”

“It… it was nothing,” Yuuri sputtered. “You were much better than me. I just- I panicked, and I-”

“Didn't die, right? Didn't even get a scratch. We scared it off. See, Yuuri? I'll keep you safe. But it's nice to have someone at my back.” 

Victor’s every step bounced in delight and he was laughing. 

“It's not about killing. It's never the killing. But your life is always worth more than whoever or whatever is trying to kill you. Remember that, and you’ll make it through alright, I think. You're better at this than you know. And I'm going to prove that.” 

Yuuri colored. His eyes fell to the cold dirt. A scattering of feathers laced the ground, some of them burnt along the edges. He grabbed a few of the more intact ones and studied them by the light of Victor’s sword. “The triplets would love these,” Yuuri said, smiling to himself. 

“Triplets?” Victor asked. His face twisted in confusion. “But… wait.” Yuuri laughed. 

“Dear childhood friends,” Yuuri said. “They have three baby girls. Sometimes my family will watch them during the harvest season. I tell them stories of fantastic creatures sometimes when they won't go to sleep. They always did like owlbears best.” Yuuri smiled down at the feathers. “It's tradition to bring home gifts from your travels for the people you love. They would like this, I know.”

“An interesting tradition,” Victor said. He looked interested. “Do you travel much?” 

Yuuri shook his head. “No one in our village does. Not anyone except Minako on occasion. She always brings back the most interesting things. Like pressed flowers that only grow on distant mountains, or wine made of a fruit that tastes like honey and clover.”

“Did you have a favorite?” Victor asked. The conversation was settling Yuuri down. His breath was steadying, his heart rate slowing to normal speeds. The distraction was nice. 

Yuuri nodded. “I loved the little chocolate sugar cake. Refined sugar isn't common back home, but it's the one thing I love almost as much as my mother’s katsudon. It's very expensive though, so I only get it when we've had a really good year. And chocolate…” Yuuri hummed delightedly at the memory. “I've only ever had it once in my life, but I don't think I'll ever forget it.”

Victor watched him curiously.

“I'm sorry,” Yuuri said. “I didn't mean to hog the conversation. Um. Your sword is pretty. How did you…?”

Victor huffed, a little laugh. “It is pretty, isn't it?” he said, holding it up. The blood did nothing to diminish its luster. Victor swiped a finger over the edge, slicking the majority of the owlbear’s blood off it, before polishing it with the hem of his tunic. It seemed like it was carved from pure ice, the edge of it wickedly keen and gently curving.

“It's just… something I've been able to do. I bonded with this sword. It's almost… a part of me at this point. We can't be separated by mortal means. I can summon it at will, or dismiss it at my leisure,” Victor said. He held his hand up, and the sword dissolved into a shower of snow. The light faded along with it. 

Yuuri summoned the dancing lights so that they wouldn't be alone in the dark. Victor stared thoughtfully at the ground. 

“You don't find it… odd, do you?” Victor asked. 

“It's magic,” Yuuri said. “It's all odd. It's dangerous and exciting, and sometimes it bites back. But if it wasn't like that, I don't think it would be as exciting to get right, would it?” 

Yuuri remembered the burst of fire out of his hands. How there had been no hesitation, no deliberation. And it had worked, somehow, miraculously. It hadn't blown up in his face. 

“No,” Victor mused. “No, I don't think it would. You look like you've calmed down. Want to head back now?” Yuuri nodded. 

They returned to camp. The others were still soundly asleep. “Get some sleep, aré,” Victor said gently. 

“Why do you keep calling me that?” Yuuri asked gently. 

Victor only laughed. “I don't know myself. But it seems right. Yuuri is a lovely name, though, would you rather I use that?” He said it like a song, the drawing of the long ‘u’ smooth and musical in his accent. 

“W-whatever you would rather,” Yuuri said, flushing. “I don't care with way.”

“Lovely!” Victor whispered, dangerously loud. His blue eyes were gleaming in the firelight, bright as moons, and his lips made a heart. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Yuuri answered, not fully sure how Victor could seem so alive in the middle of the night. 

Yuuri passed out and slept hard, waking long after the others. They shook him awake, Mila looking mildly annoyed.

“Come on, Sleeping Beauty,” Victor sang, sliding neatly onto his horse. “Or do you need me to kiss you awake?”

Yuuri scrambled into his armor as quick as he could and shoved his bedroll into his bag with Mila’s help. The fire was tamped out. Yuuri scarfed the last of breakfast from the back of the horse. 

“Good girl,” he said, patting her flank. She was a dappled grey mare, calm and collected, with a smoother gait than Victor’s spirited while stallion. Her name was Ashavik, but in his head, she was simply Asha. She didn't spook, she didn't rebel. If Victor’s Avatyar was an overeager puppy, Asha was like a more demure older dog, the kind that let children tug their ears and play, and yet never raised a fuss. 

Yuuri was glad his horse wasn't a problem. He didn't need more things to worry about. 

They backtracked in the morning’s light, and Chris picked up on the trail soon enough. Three hours in, he slipped from the saddle and landed in a low crouch on the narrow, natural dirt path. He trailed his fingers gently through the earth. 

“We’re getting close,” he breathed. “Hey, Victor, I think you should see this.”

Victor dismounted and joined him, dipping into a squat. Yuuri looked over Asha’s neck trying to watch. Chris was gesturing to an impression in the frozen mud. “This print is larger than it should be.”

“An owlbear wandered past camp last night. Maybe it was that?” Victor suggested. 

Chris shook his head. “Can't be, you can tell by the shape and the number of pads. See, the owlbear would have five all in a row, but the wolves should only have four, like this one.” He fell silent for a moment before glancing up at Yuuri. “Yuuri, what did those people have to say about the wolves? How were they different?”

“They wouldn't really say. Just that there were strange. Why? Are these bigger than normal wolves? Is that why people were having troubles?”

Chris rubbed his chin. After only a few days on the road, he was already beginning to grow scruff along his chin, and he rolled his fingers back and forth over the stubble. 

He glanced around. “I don't know. These are definitely larger than normal. I don't know what or why, though.”

Victor stood, looking closer at one of the trees. Lines of frost coated the edges of the branches, forming lines of thicker frost along the trunks. He trailed his fingers over it with a thoughtful expression. 

Chris, meanwhile, edged over to a bush. He dug for a minute, coming up with a small, ‘oh’. “At least we’re on the right track,” he said. In his fingers, he was holding a gleaming silver helmet, the plume pure black. On the back was the crest of the Nikiforovs themselves. The top half of a head fell out from the helmet, rotted and slushy as it spilled, half frozen, onto the ground. 

Yuuri saw green, and suddenly the world was turned down, his stomach heaving violently. He lost breakfast over the side of Asha’s neck, and she shied away from it, nickering. He groaned. The residue in his mouth wasn't half as disgusting as the image in his mind, the yellowing skull peeking through hints of decayed flesh, and the smell of the rot was mixing with the scent of bile and pine in a way that made it all the worse. 

Yuuri heaved again, but there was nothing left to expel.  Mila looked a little pale. She covered her nose with her scarf. Victor stepped delicately around the puddles to climb back onto his horse. 

“Everyone okay?” he asked. Yuuri held on weakly to Asha, but he managed a nod. He would not be the reason the hunt fell behind. 

The icy cold fear was creeping back in. Those were trained soldiers. Men who dedicated their lives to fighting, to defending the weak, to eliminating monsters and enemies of the crown. Yuuri couldn't help but once again feel like he didn't belong.

They continued along the trail. The tack and gear rattled in a soothing rhythm. It didn't settle Yuuri’s stomach, nor did it calm him, but it was something to hold on to. He closed his eyes. Asha was a good horse. She'd follow the others even without Yuuri’s prompting. 

Yuuri’s gloved hands clenched the reins in a white-knuckled grip. His body was tight and coiling unpleasantly. Yuuri wanted to dance. He wanted to destress, maybe play some music or sing softly under his breath. He wanted to fill the pressing quiet with sound, dull the rush of wind through the trees, and drown the singing of winter songbirds. 

Chris cocked his head. 

Victor watched him intently. “Do you hear anything?” His fingers drummed on the reins. There was trust implicit in the deference. Victor trusted Chris’s eyes and ears more than his own. And maybe that was for the best. Chris was a natural at this. His senses were so finely honed. He could find traces out of nothing, expanses of forest that looked like nothing to Yuuri were, to Chris, a sea of information. 

Victor joined him on the ground, summoning his sword in a quick motion. He gestured to the others, and they all followed suit. Georgi rested a hand on his blade. Mila muttered a few words under her breath, dragging her fingers over a scrap of leather pinned to her robes. A shimmer surrounded her entirely, like a thin protective field. Yuuri followed them a short ways down the path. Yuuri couldn't see anything, but something had Chris uneasy. And if Chris was uneasy, it seemed the others were, too. 

Chris licked a finger, holding it up in the air. “I think…”

Everything went white. 

In an instant, Yuuri remembered Hasetsu's coldest winter in living memory. Animals had frozen to death overnight if they didn’t have barns to bed down in. It had been dangerous to step outside, and even a few minutes of exposure would leave fingers blackened and dead. This right now, the sudden cold, the pressure, had nothing on the winter that he remembered. 

From the corners of his eyes, he could see a number of hulking beasts emerge from the brush and foliage. Yuuri barely had time to register their presence before their maws opened, exposing stark, white teeth. Their jaws opened up wide. A cloud of frost swirled from their mouths. 

The jet of cold was more intense than anything he'd ever experienced before in his life. It blinded him in an instant, sending him, reeling, to the ground. Distantly, he could hear Mila scream. Georgi hit the ground in a dead slump. Chris gasped in pain. There were distant wails that Yuuri couldn’t place.    
  
Tear sprang to his eyes, unbidden, and he staggered on through the tremendous waves of pain that were threatening to overcome him. That god-awful sobbing was him.  Victor looked back at them. It seemed fitting that the cold didn't hardly bother him, it never had before. His eyes were wide and blue and pained, but he was upright when no one else was.  On his face was genuine horror. 

They'd found the wolves. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said the rolls were interesting. I never said they were good. Chris rolled a fucking 5 on one of his searches for those little jerks, and two of them critted their stealth checks. So, yeah, he lost them for a while. 
> 
> Glossary of Elvish Terms:  
> Aré (noun)- sunshine, sunlight  
> Avatyar (adjective)- peerless  
> Bahmatva (adjective)- beautiful  
> Kaivolkalma (noun)- will o' wisp, little fireball, light mote  
> Silmé (noun)- starlight  
> Vanima (noun)- Beautiful (term of endearment)


	10. The Winter Wolves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They had found the wolves, or rather, the wolves had found them. It was time to fight back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Glossary of Elvish Terms:  
> Aikanauro (noun)- hellfire  
> Aré (noun)- sunshine, sunlight  
> Avatyar (adjective)- peerless  
> Bahmátva (adjective)- beautiful  
> Kaivolkalma (noun)- will o' wisp, little fireball, light mote  
> Silmé (noun)- starlight  
> Vanima (noun)- Beautiful (term of endearment)

Yuuri staggered under the crushing weight of the sudden cold. His fingertips were black and stiff, barely usable, and he was dizzy.

The wolves had come from the cold forest like ghosts out of ether, like shadows from nothing. Georgi was in a dead faint from the ice breath, his body still and barely breathing. He seized once, and it looked bad. Very bad.

One of the wolves, the one closest to Yuuri, was the first to move. It charged before the fog could clear from Yuuri’s mind. Drool slavered from its jowls, the teeth still white with edges of frost. It was close, too close. It lunged, stumbling on the charge. Yuuri wheeled back a few steps, narrowly dodging its snapping jaws.

Beside him, Mila was dodging her own wolf, its eyes cold and blue like Victor’s. She was gasping from the pain, clutching her side. But the shimmer around her remained. Blood trickled down her lips, and she was so pale.

The adrenaline was back. Louder, more oppressive than before, with a drumbeat pulse pounding in his ears. Every second felt like the drag of hours, and his brain was taking in everything so quickly that he wanted to scream and despair and fear just as powerfully as he wished to push, to attack, to burn these creatures that dared sneak up on them.

Yuuri almost couldn't breathe as he watched the wolf, the one so close to his face, fall to its paws only inches away, snarling.

It was massive. It looked him in the eyes, even crouching slightly as it was. It was as tall as a horse and immensely wider, shaggy and powerful, and bits of ice and slaver fell from its mouth. This wasn't a wolf. It wasn't a dog. In its gaze, Yuuri saw something intelligent. Painfully so.

Behind him, Victor let out a vicious cry, meeting a pair of the giant wolves head on. His sword danced through the air, brutal and graceful at once, glancing strikes over both beasts’ muzzles. They roared in anger, but didn't seem remotely perturbed by the spray of frost the strikes had left.

“Don't use ice magic!” Victor yelled. “Fire, fire! Aikanauro!” As he spit the final word, his sword erupted into gouts of green fire. He struck once more at the first wolf, and it whined as it was wreathed in the lash of flames. The tongues leapt out to taste the grey-white fur of the second, burning them both in the same strike.

At the same time, Chris was wheeling backward, unleashing a hail of arrows from his longbow. The three arrows struck true, each one exploding into a small burst of fire as they hit three different wolves.

Now Yuuri could see that there were five of the beasts total.

One of the creatures attacking Victor snapped out, and its jaws closed around his shoulder. A spray of blood coated the ground, and it shook its head, sending Victor sprawling onto the ground. He rolled into it, a wince on his face, as he rolled back onto his feet, sword up and ready for retaliation.

Chris crossed his fingers over his chest, muttering something quickly. The shimmer stole the blackness from his fingertips. He clenched his fist and bounced on his heels, readying his bow once more.

The wolf was too close, and it was starting toward Georgi, eager to finish the dying man off. Yuuri grimaced.

He grabbed Georgi’s unconscious form and tossed him over a nearby log, heaving with everything he had. He somersaulted himself over the edge, but the beast caught him with a glancing blow. Yuuri keened like a dying animal as he hit the ground hard on the other side, grabbing Georgi with the last of his strength and pulling him back to safety.

Yuuri copied Chris’s gesture, humming an old song under his breath to bring the healing magic bubbling up from inside of him. The blackness left his fingertips and the bleeding wound closed partially, stemming the flow of blood. Yuuri felt at least a few steps further from death’s door.

These wolves were going to slaughter them. The fear was crippling. Overwhelming. The closest wolf took a few steps closer, and in its cold blue eyes was murderous glee. Yuuri trapped the ball of sulfer, pine tar, and niter between his fingers, rolling his arms around him.

Six small whiffs fizzled to life as the tiny, fist-sized meteors began to orbit his head. Yuuri screamed as he flicked his fingers, launching one each towards two of the closest wolves. They exploded on impact, and the nearest wolf yipped in surprise, falling a few paces back. The expression turned calculating. It was thinking.

“Victor!” Mila yelled. “Boom boom!” Yuuri didn't know what it meant, but it sounded like Victor did because he was wheeling backwards in a panic. Almost as soon as the words left her lips, she held a little white ball aloft. “Fireball!” Her gaze was sharp, pointing towards a point in the center of all the wolves.

Only now did Yuuri realize that Mila had been watching for this, for everyone to adjust so the wolves all had their backs to each other. A small flash sparked in the center of the path, white and small, before imploding inwards and then exploding out once more. The force was blistering.

Victor swore loudly as the edges of the blast threw him against a tree, but he fared far better than the wolves, who were now thoroughly singed and very angry. One of them was hacking blood onto the ground, its teeth redder than before. They looked rougher than before, but they were still in better shape than the tatters of Yuuri's group.

“Go for the mage,” one wolf growled to another, and Yuuri nearly collapsed in horror. “Don't let her get another one of those off.”

“Understood,” another replied, pacing closer to Mila with its eyes narrowed. A low growl ripped from its chest as it lunged.

They weren't just intelligent. Horror clenched in Yuuri’s chest as he realized the truth. These were sentient creatures. Things with motives, plans, hopes, and goals. They reasoned.

Yuuri’s one comfort in this whole affair had been that he'd been taking out stupid animals. That they'd be efficient and quick and nothing would suffer unduly. That, even if Yuuri could probably never bring himself to kill a dog no matter what circumstances called for, at least these were vicious, mindless animals who didn't answer to anyone.

But that was a lie.

“What are these things?” Yuuri cried out, as the running wolf launched itself toward Mila. She leapt out of the way a moment too late, and the beast closed its jaws around her. Yuuri waited for the scream, for the spray of blood, but there was nothing.

The wolf growled, deep and dark, its jaws working around the shimmer that surrounded Mila. The magical armor held the beast back. Mila grinned.

To the back, another wolf charged at Chris, but he rolled beneath its attack, missing the slashing claws and gnashing teeth entirely. The spell had revitalized him, and he was already reaching for more arrows to knock.

Georgi seized again. He wasn't going to make it if they didn't do something.

Mila was now boxed in. Two of the wolves had surrounded her, and her attentions were split between the pair, trying to dodge both of them. By a small miracle, the harrying was fruitless. They couldn't get their teeth inside the magical armor yet.

Victor attacked once more with his flaming sword, shrugging off the worst of the fireball with a roll of his shoulders. The pair of wolves beside him tasted the full brunt of the fire and slashing sword.

One of the beasts now looked almost dead on its feet, and yet it still snapped and laughed in a low, dark voice. “Playing with fire will get you burned,” the bleeding beast chuckled gently.

“I've got this one, Victor,” Chris said. His tone was more serious than usual. The flirtiness was gone. His eyes were dark and narrow as he let two more arrows fly, erupting into bursts of explosive fire where they impacted. The first buried itself beside the earlier arrows Chris had shot, bristling its back like porcupine quills.

But the second arrow sailed clear and straight, whistling as it struck home in the wolf’s eye, exploding violently enough to drop the wolf right there.

A hint of a smile crossed Victor’s face. “Thanks, Chris!” he called.

“Not a problem, darling,” Chris replied, already reaching for more arrows.

Yuuri reached toward Georgi’s neck. There was still a pulse, but it was faint. Dangerously so. Yuuri closed his eyes and reached for the magic. He needed it. He couldn't let this fail now. If things blew up, there were more lives than just his on the line, and Yuuri wasn't about to let Georgi die.

Yuuri pressed his hands flat to Georgi’s armor, pushing the magic into him with everything he had. Heal. Heal, dammit. Light radiated outward. Georgi gasped, and his eyes fluttered open, stunned and unseeing. Yuuri let out a deep breath of relief.

Not dead, at least for now. Yuuri glanced up. Two wolves on Victor, now one, two on Mila, and the fifth was trying to make mincemeat out of Chris, who was struggling to take out the beast at close range. Yuuri launched the first meteor toward Chris’s wolf, and the second he sent sailing toward a spot between the two near Mila.

Just as he thought, the force of the explosion was powerful enough to catch both. They leveled glares at Yuuri.

“Healer. Kill him,” one wolf spat, and the other nodded.

“Oh hell no,” Mila said. “Nobody’s killing Yuuri.” She leveled her hands in a familiar gesture, thumbs and forefingers meeting in a diamond, the other fingers splayed. “Burn!”

Fire caught the air, and both wolves were caught in the blast. One took the full brunt of the swirling magic, and it let out the most horrifying whining sound Yuuri had ever heard as it burnt to death.

Yuuri heard a distant, cracking crunch and a gasp. Blood spattered the ground around Chris, and he was barely able to wrench himself free. He hit the ground hard, landing flat on his back with the wind knocked out of him. The wolf laughed cruelly as it circled around for another bite.

The last wolf beside Mila was beginning to grow desperate, its fur blacked and missing in broad patches, flesh charred, and its ears singed off. When it found Mila’s magic armor to be too strong, it darted back. “Fuck this,” the wolf growled to the one fighting Victor. “I'm not dying for you.” It started to run, darting between the span of open trees between where Victor stood and where Chris was.

“Coward!” the other wolf bellowed. “These humanoids should not be the reason we turn tail and run!” It attacked Victor again, but he ducked out of the way, laughing with a little bit of relish now that the tides of battle had turned. He held his sword a little higher and grinned.

Yuuri often thought Victor was beautiful in a completely objective way, the same way you could stare at a meadow or a painting or the broad vista of the ocean at sunset and find it beautiful. He was proud and tall and radiant in every sense of the word. Here and now, his cape ragged, armor stained by soot, his face gritty and streaked with blood, but his face alight with glorious, righteous passion, he had never seemed so perfect.

He didn't look like a prince. He looked vital and alive, radiant like a figure of divinity, and even with his wounds, it was so much better than any other look he'd ever sported. The green fire licked along the blade of the sword, neither melting it nor extinguishing. Victor’s smile widened.

“Shit,” the wolf snarled. It glanced back at its two remaining companions. “Retreat!” Its tail flagged.

Victor struck as it started to bolt, his sword hitting the beast in a glancing blow to the side that left a river of blood pouring down its fur. It continued to run. Chris fired off a shot from the ground, but it went wide. His next shot struck home.

The wolf nearly dropped. It staggered, gasping for air, but it continued to run as though its life depended on it. Yuuri called his last meteors, knowing he could still strike the beast down.

For a terrible moment, he hesitated.

He knew the wolves had killed villagers. Livestock. Left them fearful and alone. But he could still see the slow retreat of the owlbear in his mind, hear Victor’s words, and feel the fear in the wolves retreating.

If Yuuri launched this meteor, he'd kill an intelligent creature. It might have walked on four legs. It might have killed others. Regardless of all that, wouldn't it make him a murderer?

And then it was too late.

Mila pulled a diamond from her pocket and hurled it. As it sailed through the air, it caught fire and swelled in size, landing on one wolf’s back, the one that had been attacking her only seconds ago. It let out a shriek as it collapsed on the ground for a moment, but continued to run after it regained its footing.

Chris’s wolf dodged a bludgeoning strike made from Chris trying to club the beast upside the head, and it poured on the speed, vanishing into the darkness.

Mila’s wolf streaked after it, a trail of blood trickling along the ground to show its path. Victor’s wolf followed after, zigzaging over fallen trees.

“Get back here!” Victor yelled, waving his free hand. A streak of white energy punched into the bleeding hindquarters of the wolf, sending it toppling end over end. There was a sickening snap as the force drove the wolf into a tree. Bone or branch breaking, Yuri couldn't tell, but the wolf didn't rise. Another blast struck its skull, and the head was demolished. A spray of frost radiated around the head, creeping up the bark of the tree.

Victor swore loudly.

The fear was gone, and all that remained was anger. Georgi was holding his head, bleary as he sat up beside Yuuri. There was an awful wheezing, gasping kind of noise coming from somewhere nearby. The fight had lasted less than 20 seconds in all, but it had felt more draining than the longest of Yuuri's shows  

“Is everyone okay?” Victor called. “Sound off.”

“I'm alive,” Mila coughed. Her fist came away from her mouth stained with blood. She was leaning heavily against a tree for support.

“I haven't met my eternal rest yet,” Georgi said. There was red on his teeth and his eyes were unfocused.

“Not dead,” Chris confirmed.

“Alive,” Yuuri said. His voice was scratchy, and his heart was pounding still at a dangerous pace. His hands were shaking.

Victor was in front of him, so suddenly that Yuuri didn't know where he’d come from. “Yuuri, it's okay. We’re okay. They're gone.” Oh. Yuuri was making that awful sound. He bit his lips and tried to quiet himself.

“You're hurt,” Yuuri said. He saw the trickle of crimson leaking down Victor’s temple, the gush of blood down his side as his left shoulder continued to bleed.

“I'm fine,” Victor said. “We need to patch you, Mila, and Georgi up.”

“We need to regroup. Two escaped, and there may very well be more out there,” Chris said. Victor nodded.

“We need to rest first. Patch up our wounds as best we can, and head out. The longer we wait, the worse our chances of finding them again.”

“I just need a minute,” Georgi coughed. He was in the worst shape, but Yuuri and Mila weren't far off. Chris had healed himself a little with a short spell, but he didn't look well off, either. And Victor…

The cold blast hadn't affected him much, but he was holding his left arm a little oddly, and the wince never fully left his face, despite the determined expression he wore.

Yuuri staggered over the log, taking a seat. The exhaustion was worse than when he'd faced the owlbear. He let the last two meteors fizzle out of existence. “If… if you come closer, I think I can help. It won't be much, but...”

Chris was too far, but he walked closer with a curious look. Yuuri held his hands aloft and started to sing softly, a little lullaby his mother sang him when he was a child. He thought of pleasant thoughts.

The magic was warm, pleasant like the hot water of the springs. He moved his hands in slow gestures, feeling more than thinking as the healing energy trickled through him. He didn't spare a thought to the possibility of failure.

The magic caught, and the soft golden light settled along each of them. Flesh knitted together, burns lightened, and the frostbite abated. Victor glanced at his shoulder in surprise as the gaping flesh smoothed over with barely more than a hairline scar.

“Yuuri,” Mila breathed in surprise. “That's amazing!” Yuuri wavered and fell backward. Georgi barely grabbed him before his head struck the ground.

“Short rest,” Chris agreed. “But then back on the path. They left trails of blood behind. It's possible they're retreating to their nest.”

“What were those?” Yuuri coughed. “Those weren't wolves. I might not be an expert, but those definitely weren't wolves.” Victor pursed his lips.

Chris shook his head. “I should have guessed. As soon as you said there was an arrangement… that these wolves were different-”

“No, there was no way to guess,” Victor said severely. “Winter Wolves don't belong on the Prime Material Plane. They shouldn't be here. We couldn't have expected this. But it's too late now. We need to finish this.”

Victor turned, looking at Yuuri wavering unsteadily on the log.

“Yuuri. Are you okay? We can split up, and someone can bring you back to town. You didn't sign on for this, and it isn't fair to you to put you at risk like this.”

Yuuri’s breath caught. Yes, he wanted to say, take me home. He was terrified. But splitting the group was even worse. The five of them had barely managed against the pack, and that was before they'd been run down, before they’d burnt spells and precious reserves of energy. Succeed or fail, there would be casualties. With someone escorting Yuuri back to Trisken, they'd be down to three.

Yuuri still had a bit of magic left in him. He could still be helpful. Meteors, fire. Healing. Something. And if everything blew up… maybe he could at least take the damned things with him.

Maybe it was shock. He was shaking, but mostly everything felt distant and fuzzy. Yuuri swiped his tongue over his lips, steeling himself. 

“No,” Yuuri said. “I… I’ll see this through. At the very least, I can stay back and heal you all. I can… I can do that much.”

Victor nodded. “I'm very sorry, Yuuri. It was never, ever meant to be like this.”

“It's not a death sentence. I won't let it be,” Yuuri said firmly. “Let's save those townspeople.”

Victor blinked in surprise, before the smile returned. Must have been the right words to convince him. “Yes! Absolutely! Let's gooo~!”

“Ten more minutes,” Mila groaned. Victor nodded sheepishly. “Crazy bastard.”

Yuuri scooted beside Mila as she caught her breath. The shimmer was still up around her.

She nodded. “Mage Armor. Not a bad move, all things considered. As long as it isn't dispelled, it makes me about as hard to hit as that white-haired idiot over there,” she said, grinning. Victor was chatting with Chris, already recounting the battle blow by blow.

“Is it hard?” Yuuri asked.

“It fizzles if you try it with real armor, but it's not such a bad spell. A little harder than lights or mending, but nothing like a fireball.”

Yuuri swallowed nervously.

“How did you control it?” he asked. “It's… so big. And…” Yuuri glanced at the epicenter of the blast. The forest had been cleared away where the blast was, and a few dried twigs were still smoldering morosely. The trees were blackened. Some smaller ones were simply gone. It reminded Yuuri of the devastation of his own mistake. Of how he'd nearly killed himself with the blast. How the town had needed to rebuild afterward. “Destructive.”

“You can't be scared of your magic,” Mila said. “Otherwise, it controls you, instead of you controlling it. A fireball isn't that much different from your meteors. Bigger, maybe. There’s also the possibility of friendly fire.”

“Thanks for that, by the way!” Victor called.

“I warned you!” Mila said. “You know the plan is to back the hell up. This would have gone south if I hadn't singed your perfect hair a little. I saved all our asses.”

“Thank you Mila,” Georgi and Chris chimed, like it was familiar.

“Damn right,” she said with a nod. She winked at Yuuri. “These idiots would get themselves killed without my magic. Be glad I studied this morning!”

After fifteen minutes of patching up the remaining wounds with bandages and salves, they shambled back to their horses. Thankfully the beasts hadn't been frightened off by the attack, and they were able to get back on the move again, eyes peeled for any sign of the creatures. It was quieter now. A little more serious, a bit more solemn.

Chris followed the trail of blood until they reached an outcropping of rock. The mouth of a cave, tall enough for Victor to enter without ducking his head, showed the trickle of blood leading inside.

Mila extended her arms to stop them. “Ah, ah, ah, I've got this one,” she said. She muttered her incantation quickly, and there was a small gossamer shimmer through the air. Mila’s eyes went unfocused. She extended her fingers outward.

For about ten minutes, the others sat back, watching closely. Mila’s eyes snapped into focus, and her gaze hardened. “Victor,” she said. He perked to attention immediately. “Trouble.”

“More than two?” he said.

She nodded. “I'm not sure exactly how many. The two injured wolves are definitely in there. And I saw at least two more hunkered down, either hiding or waiting to ambush us. Maybe more than four, but I don’t know for certain. The cave is deep, and it has a few twists and turns, but it’s a straight enough shot down.”

“What’s the plan, then,” Georgi said.

Victor pressed a finger to his lips, pacing in front of the cave’s mouth. They left the horses a short distance away, in case the wolves happened to bolt out of the cave. It wouldn’t do for the monsters to kill them.

“I’ve fought one or two of these before,” Victor said. “They’re invulnerable to cold, and they’re smart. Not as smart as you or I, maybe, but they’re smarter than your average dog. If I know anything at all about them, they already know we’re here, and they’re waiting for us. Maybe they’ve already made a plan to ambush us within.”

Chris nodded. “As long as we avoid trying to ice them,” he said, flashing Victor a pointed look, “we shouldn’t have a problem.”

“Ice is just my thing, okay?” Victor said. It sounded like it was meant to be lighthearted, but there was too much stress in his voice. “But you’re right. Meteors, fireballs, anything you can muster. I don’t know what these things are doing here, but they absolutely need to be eradicated.”

“You said they aren’t from the Prime Material Plane,” Yuuri said. “Where are they from?”

Victor pursed his lips. “The Feywild. Usually. Sometimes they can be found in this plane, but very rarely, and usually in colder regions than this. They don’t migrate. They don’t belong here!” He spat angrily, summoning his sword back to his hand in a sudden spike of ice out of his palm. “Let’s come up with a plan of attack. Mila, how are they arranged in there?”

“The inside of the cave is tight enough that, if I set another fireball off in there, it would definitely hit everything. But I can’t guarantee there wouldn’t be a cave-in.”

Victor grit his teeth. “I don’t like the risk. Keep it in your back pocket as a failsafe. If it looks like we aren’t able to defeat them, trapping them inside is a valid way to remove them from the situation.”

Chris laughed nervously. He rested a hand gently on Victor’s shoulder. “You don’t really think this litter of pups is going to do us in, right?”

“I don’t know,” Victor said. His eyes flashed. “This isn’t a threat to be taken lightly. There’s a reason that none of the troops came back, and it wasn’t bad luck. I don’t want to take unnecessary risks.”

Mila scoffed. “Yeah right. You’re Victor Nikiforov. You always lead the charge. What’s this reticence? You weren’t like this against the dragon. You were gung ho. ‘It’s just an overgrown lizard’, you said. ‘What’s a little fire?’, you said. They hit us hard, but we’ve got numbers, and we’re prepared for them this time. They aren’t getting the jump on us again.”

Victor sighed, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. You’re right.”

Georgi punched his shoulder. “And I thought I was off my game. What’s wrong?”

Yuuri watched the exchange with a note of curiosity. They sketched out a rough idea for a plan of attack. Yuuri offered what he could.

The rest had given them enough time to pull back into adequate fighting condition. It wasn’t perfect, but the buzz of magic in their veins served as an form of artificial stimulant, and it kept them on their feet well enough. Now it was just a matter of sorting out what they could do.

Yuuri wasn’t a hero. He wasn’t fool enough to delude himself of that. But the townspeople weren’t just scared, they were terrified. Someone needed to do something about these beasts, and if Yuuri could, at the very least, keep the others on their feet long enough for the real heroes to fix this, it was enough.

Once the plan was finalized, they approached the mouth of the cave. The last of the Winter Wolves awaited. It was do or die, and Yuuri felt like he was going to be sick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It might not seem like it, but this battle took freaking forever. Not to write, but to run. It was seriously three hours of nervous dice rolling and hoping the good guys (*cough* Georgi) didn't die xD Planning attacks for five different skillsets is complicated and I really need to optimize my shitty, improvised character sheets. 
> 
> These were, indeed, Winter Wolves, so nice job MatchaMochi for figuring that out! *finger guns* 
> 
> Auri out!


	11. The Wolf of Frigid Doom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's something within the cave that none of them could have anticipated...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really wanted to make Georgi an evil witch. But that was too easy, and also, too many characters were already magic based. He's still a dramatic darling. 
> 
> I can't wait for you guys to reach Yurio.

“Yuuri, I want to talk to you,” Georgi said. He pulled Yuuri aside with a small tug to his sleeve, gesturing to a span of evergreen trees a few paces away. Yuuri followed him.

“Yes?”

The others were occupied, studying the mouth of the cave to see if there were any traps or pitfalls awaiting them. Chris was doing most of the work. Victor was making broad, sweeping gestures with his sword as he talked, and Mila hissed when he almost scratched her. Yuuri looked back at Georgi, waiting for him to speak.

There was a long pause before he did.

“I didn't get the chance to properly thank you for saving my life back there. If you hadn't come along, I would certainly be dead now.”

Yuuri flushed. “I'm certain that one of the others would have helped you.”

Georgi shook his head. “From what I understand, they wouldn't have gotten there on time. Mila and Victor don't know the first thing about first aid, and Chris had his own wolves to deal with. If you hadn't helped, I wouldn't be talking to you right now. That's the truth, Yuuri, and I want you to know that I'm glad you're here.”

“Well, um…” Yuuri said, shifting uncomfortably. “Thank you. Or… you're welcome?”

“It's also why I want to tell you something, and I'm not proud to admit it,” Georgi continued. He looked almost ashamed. “I didn't want you to come, at first. I thought you would hold us back. Which makes me feel even worse about saying this, after you saved my life.”

“What's that?” Yuuri asked.

Georgi sighed, running his fingers through his muddied hair. “I still don't think you should be here. You hesitated during the last fight. That can get you killed. And I’m a fair hand with bandages and such, but I'm not able use magic to fix things like you and Chris. Victor says these… winter... things are smart and evil. That's not a good combination. So here,” he said, pressing a dagger into Yuuri’s hand. “I know you've got your magic, like Mila, but there might be a time when you can't get your spells out fast enough. If you see an opportunity, don't hesitate, take it.”

“But what if-”

“There's no buts,” Georgi said firmly. “Killing isn't fun. It isn't easy. Especially when your target is intelligent enough to carry on a conversation. But when the lives of the people you're with are at stake, I'm not letting them die because you couldn't draw blood. These things won't hesitate to kill you. Remember that, Yuuri. Because even if they don't kill you, they could kill Mila, or Chris.”

Georgi paused, amending his thoughts before he even spoke them.

“Maybe not Victor, because every third day I find I’m half convinced the man’s immortal, or at the very least, the gods are saving his death up for something bigger and more dramatic than this. But that's not what’s important.”

Yuuri nodded solemnly. Georgi was right. Yuuri had frozen up on the battlefield. If he hadn't, there would have been one less horse-size bag of teeth and claws and hateful ice ready to kill Yuuri’s companions. “I won't make that mistake again. I don't want to see anyone hurt.”

Georgi half smiled. “Good. These people are my family. I'd hate to see something happen to them. But, I digress, thank you, Yuuri. You watch my back, and I'll watch yours. Let's fight the good fight, and take these things out once and for all.”

The nerves were overwhelming. The fear of death, of pain, of those beasts within. But Georgi trusted him. Victor and Mila trusted him. Chris… was at least accepting of him, though they hadn't spent overmuch time together. And the townspeople needed help. Yuuri grit his teeth and nodded through the chattering. “Let's do it.”

He steadied himself as best he could as Victor and Chris beckoned them over. Georgi fell into conversation with Chris. Yuuri shifted nervously while Mila was pulling out the last of her favored material components from her bag. Victor stepped up close behind him, almost silent.

“You don't have to come along,” Victor said. “I know you're scared. You're not fooling me, Yuuri. This is dangerous, and I'm not idiot enough to say otherwise.”

Yuuri bit his lip, shaking his head. He had a white-knuckle grip on a little knife Georgi had passed over. He had a working knowledge of how to use it, but knowing how to use it and being able to were two entirely different things.

Yuuri shook his head. “I can help. I have to.” He half smiled. “Someone has to keep Georgi alive.”

Victor nodded. “If you're certain. You're more skilled than you know, Yuuri. Do what feels right. Not necessarily what you're told. And have faith in your own abilities.” He eyed the knife with a crooked smile. “Georgi’s such a softie.”

Yuuri turned the blade this way and that. It was simple, a flat steel blade with a bit of leather wrapped around the little scabbard it was stored in, but it was solid and sharp. Yuuri belted it on with a nod. “We’ll make it through,” he said, more to himself than anything.

Victor nodded. “We will. There doesn't seem to be any traps in the cave. I'm almost certain those mutts never expected anyone to ever find this place. And I would expect they likely keep a few of their number inside at all times to dissuade intruders. It should be fine to head in.”

Mila nodded. “Yeah. So. Who's going first?”

“I am,” Victor said. “My fight, my duty to lead. Straight shot to the back, right, Mi?”

Mila nodded. “There's some turns, but it doesn't branch. Just follow the way, and there will be an opening about a hundred yards in. I'm almost positive they know we're here.”

Victor nodded. “Right. Georgi, feeling up to sticking close? Make Katya regret breaking that engagement?” Georgi bristled, but he bowed his head in agreement. “Mila, watch for a chance with those fireballs, but only if things are going south. I don't want a cave in.”

“If I give the signal, best back the hell up,” Mila agreed. “Chris will watch my back, won't you?” She smiled over her shoulder.

Chris nodded and laughed. “I'll watch it with the utmost care, sweetling.”

Mila grabbed Yuuri and yanked him close. “And you're sticking with me. Casters in the middle is just safer for everyone.”

Yuuri didn't agree. If casters were in the middle, if they went ‘boom’, so would everyone else. He nodded. “S-sure. Sounds good to me.”

His hands were shaking. What if he messed up? What if he accidentally summoned a fireball in here? He suddenly wasn't so sure about this. This was a bad idea, and Yuuri should really just wait outside-

Mila smiled. Victor beckoned them on. “Let's get this done so we can head back.”

Yuuri swallowed and followed them inside.

The way was dim and hard to see after the first turn, and the second twist brought with it another closing wave of shadow. Yuuri summoned his dancing tealights with a small _whiff_. Mila chuckled.

“Here, let me see some phosphorus,” she said, pinching a little from the sack. She rubbed it onto a pebble and muttered something under her breath. The phosphorous flickered and then swelled in brightness, bathing the corridor in a steady white glow. “Lasts a bit longer this way.”

Yuuri held the rock in his hand, letting the light seep through his fingers. Another twist of the path, and the only light now remaining was from the spell. He could hear every footstep crunch loudly as they passed. Georgi’s armor clattered with every step. The wolves would have to have heard them. They would be waiting within.

A hand on his shoulder steadied him. Chris offered him a lopsided smile, his eyes flashing in the dark with an iridescent shimmer. Victor’s eyes had the same mirror-like glint, the kind that caught the light and held it trapped like twin lanterns. Yuuri took a deep breath. Two injured wolves. Two that were fine. Maybe more. But five hadn't been a problem once the fight got going. As long as they didn't get hit with the icy breath, they would be fine.

Mila tugged Victor to a stop. Her magic-based armor glittered in the dim light. Her lips moved, but no sound escaped. Victor nodded. Mila pointed to them each in turn, likely relaying the same message each time.

“Just around the next bend.” The magical whisper passed through Yuuri’s ears as though it had been spoken right next to him. He nodded. He moved his arms around him in an abbreviated movement to summon his meteors around him, letting six of them spark to life around his head. They orbited slowly, guided by soft swirls of Yuuri’s fingers through the air.

Yuuri didn't care if these things were intelligent. They were hurting people, and they would kill Yuuri’s friends if he didn't help. Victor nodded approvingly from the front.

Victor passed his fingers slowly over a jeweled gauntlet he wore on his left hand. A flash of arcane silver glinted in the darkness, skittering between gemstones like lighting through storm clouds. Victor’s entire form seemed to flicker briefly. He gestured. They moved forward, one at a time, heading towards where the tunnel widened into a larger open cavern.

Right into another gust of ice.

Victor swore and yanked Georgi out of the way, managing to avoid the worst of it, but Mila couldn't move quickly enough to miss the blast. Chris and Yuuri were far enough back to miss it, but the sudden plunge in temperature was noticeable enough.

Mila shuddered and shivered violently. Her robes were laced with frost and her lips were blue. She let out a vicious battle cry.

The fight began.

The wolf in the doorway was the first to spring into action. It was massive and growling, the slaver dripping in icy chunks from its jowls as it bared its teeth, lunging toward Victor and growling, “You just couldn't leave well enough alone!” It stumbled on the attack, losing its footing, and Victor brought the hilt of the sword up in time to pound against the beast’s skull, pushing its snapping jaws back.

He retaliated immediately. The sword flashed through the air, trailing snowflakes behind it as the blade sank into the beast’s hide, biting hard enough to send spurts of hot crimson spilling down the beast’s flank and into the cave floor. “Obviously not,” Victor replied, cocking his hip with a smile. Then, with a whispery _pop_ , Victor vanished.

“What?” Yuuri yelped, terrified, but Mila was already bearing forward, pushing past the opening Victor had made, and Yuuri scrambled to follow. She led him out of the mouth to duck behind a nearby outcropping of rock. Mila snatched the rock from his fingers and tossed it into the middle of the room.

Now Yuuri could see the cavern in its entirety, a room about forty feet across in any given direction, roughy circular but not exactly so. The ceiling was perhaps twenty feet at its highest point, irregular and jagged with the teeth of stalactites. Mila fumbled with a vial, slopping out a drop of something slimy and greenish into her fingers.

Her attention was at the back, on a nest of three wolves tucked in the shadows. The two injured wolves were among the number, and a third, slightly bigger wolf seemed to have been tending to their wounds as best as it could.

Mila spat the words quickly into her palm, and then hurled the drops of slime. It sailed over the outcropping, swelling to nearly a foot in diameter as it did so, beginning to glow bright green. It struck the back wall and exploded on contact, spattering everything in a 20-foot radius with thick, roiling acid. The healthiest wolf managed to avoid the brunt of the damage, but the two that were already hurt ended up showered in a toxic-looking sludge. Yuuri could see it eating away at their fur, hear the high-pitched whines as the acid ate away at them.

Yuuri panicked, thrusting out his fingers and reaching blindly for the magic with a strangled yelp. A warbling black mass of writhing energy erupted from his palm, its core shifting between a rainbow of colors as it sailed through the air.

The core of the bolt was crimson and orange as it struck the healthiest wolf of the three, and the black mass became a ball of flame, making the wolf howl in furious pain.

Yuuri was tossing two meteors back the way he came, sending them off toward the wolf near the mouth of the cave with a roll of his shoulders, when Mila jerked his arm with a muffled scream.

A low snarl built behind him, much, much deeper and far louder than the others. “You should not have come here, foolish humans.”

Yuuri slowly turned, and his blood seemed to chill colder than the freezing air of the cave.

It was gigantic, easily dwarfing all the other beasts in the room and making the rest of the winter wolves look like puppies, or at least runts of the litter. Mila was making whispery gasping noises like she couldn't breathe for fear, and Yuuri nearly fell to his knees in mortal terror. The other wolves had been large. This one was huge, with an icy blue crystal set between its yellow eyes. The cloud of ice built around its teeth.

Yuuri wrenched Mila back, but it did no good. The ice shot from its mouth, showering them both in a burst of bitter cold air, super-cooled to the point of pain. The ice seemed to cut their skin, leaving bloody trails and scratches where shards of ice bit them. The giant beast threw back its head and howled.

The other wolves howled with it, and the air itself seemed to waver, discordant and haunting, wreaking havoc on Yuuri’s mind. Something in the biggest wolf’s howl was different from the others, something ancient and evil and powerfully magical in nature. Mila fell to the floor with a scream, clutching her ears.

Yuuri felt a familiar fear overwhelm him in a wash of liquid terror, crashing over him like the tidal waves of Hasetsu’s beach. The feelings of insecurity and failure and most of all of dying here in this dark cave where his body would be consumed or left to rot-

No.

Yuuri shook himself, biting his tongue to try and focus. Blood was falling into his eyes, crystallized and half-frozen on his skin. The pain was sharp, but clarifying.

No hesitation. No fear. Yuuri remembered Georgi’s words. There wasn't time to be afraid. Not if it meant Mila or Victor or anyone else might die. He pulled Mila behind him, chancing a quick glance back at the others, rattled by the sound, but gritting his teeth all the same.

Yuuri was here for a reason.

Georgi was close to wetting himself, falling back from the horror of it all, and Mila was paralyzed by her fears. Chris, however, was in his element, shrugging the howling off and shoving past both Georgi and the wolf at the door, making for a span of open space where he could focus on the beasts at the back with a hailing rain of flaming arrows. One of the beasts dropped immediately, keening briefly before it silenced, the howl dying in its throat.

Mila stilled, her eyes flashing a brief, bright purple.

The other wolf seemed to take offense to this, charging Chris and trying to shower the three of them in its breath. Chris avoided it completely, and Mila wrenched Yuuri to the side, missing the worst of it. The cold left Yuuri’s teeth chattering violently.

Mila looked terrified, her entire body wracked with a violent shaking, but she nodded quickly at Yuuri. “Thank the gods for morning divination,” she muttered. Now Yuuri understood. She must have seen the moment the wolf would split its jaws in the dark cave, or maybe the spray of ice fluttering outward, and reacted in time to save them both from the worst of it.

This was no time for thanks.

The wolf by the door was already circling around, closing in on Yuuri’s flank, blocking off the only way of escape from the massive wolf behind them. Mila’s eyes flashed violet again and she yanked Yuuri back, the snapping jaws of the beast closing a hair’s breadth away from Yuuri’s skin.

Victor chose that moment to reappear, popping back into sight somewhere different from where he had disappeared. He stayed long enough to deal two brutal strikes to the beast before his form wavered and vanished again, both wolves closing their snapping jaws around open air.

Victor wasn't just turning invisible, like Yuuri had wondered. He was gone. Completely, no longer in the room, gone. He popped in and out of sight, flickering around the room in sporadic, seemingly uncontrolled movements, slashing at whatever was closest.

Mila was still too scared to move, and her shaking hand made the diamond she threw at the biggest wolf miss completely, the shapeless fire sputtering out and the diamond useless and destroyed. “Fuck fuck fuck,” Mila muttered, the edge in her voice getting darker.

The two smaller wolves were closing in on Mila and Yuuri now, pressing closer and sensing easy prey, while the biggest wolf watched behind them, darkly amused by their terror.

Casters were an obvious target to anything smart enough to put together the shouted incantations, glowing hands, and sudden, violent explosions. Spells were powerful, rare, and painted a target on their backs. They would be taken out first, and Yuuri knew it. Mila was already looking rough, shaky and barely on her feet. Yuuri was in better shape, but three wolves ganging up them would not end well no matter what.

Yuuri didn't want to die.

He gestured with his arms, flicking a meteor toward the two wolves closing in and another to the biggest one in the back, before closing a hand around Mila’s shoulder. He hummed, and a ray of golden light shimmered through his skin, flowing into Mila in a ray of healing warmth. He nodded at her.

“You can do this,” he said. He hoped he sounded more inspirational than he felt, but this was Mila. Mila, who was never afraid, who was eternally comfortable with situations, no matter the oddness. Mila, who had taken Yuuri aside, shown him a measure of kindness he didn't deserve, and praised the one thing he was kind of good at.

Mila was not dying here today.

Chris was harrying the biggest wolf, trying to take shots at it from his position. The beast’s eyes narrowed. “Petty fleas. You should have run while you had the chance. A number of my pack are dead because of you and I am not forgiving,” it rumbled.

The beast leapt lazily over its outcropping, landing on the ground beside Chris hard enough to make the entire cavern seem to quake. He stepped back, trying to duck out of range, but the beast’s size disguised a surprising quickness. The biggest wolf brought its claws down, pushing Chris onto the floor and burying its teeth into his shoulder. Chris howled in pain as the wolf began to laugh.

Behind Yuuri, the first wolf was moving closer again, bolstered by the attack from its leader. It seemed to grin, blood spilling down its teeth. It had a slight limp now, thanks to the meteors, but it did not look remotely afraid.

“I can't wait to taste your flesh, child,” it rasped.

It readied itself to leap, when Georgi appeared from behind it, seemingly in a frenzy. He let out a vicious scream of anger as he brought down his large sword onto the wolf’s back, slashing and hacking with a poetic sort of brutality. The beast rolled out of the way, dodging another strike, but Georgi was back on him again, slashing out with the bloodstained length of steel hard enough to drive the blade deep into the beast’s shoulder. The wolf gasped in pain.

“I will be the one to end you, foul beast,” Georgi said severely. He brought the sword down one last time, driving it down into the beast’s head with a powerful strike. It went down and did not rise. Georgi was panting now, looking for more targets.

Mila screamed, and both Yuuri and Georgi whirled. One of the wolves had pounced, but it couldn't seem to close its jaws around her. Bolstered by the protection, Mila’s gaze hardened, and she slipped back up to her feet with a dexterous backward summersault.

“Don't worry about me, you two,” Mila heaved, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand. She was staring the wolf down now, fingers twitching toward her stash of components. “Help Chris.”

Chris was in a bad way. On the floor, there was no escaping the brutal onslaught of the two wolves who had surrounded him, and the biggest one took a grim pleasure in hearing him scream. They were ripping at him, yanking and pulling and closing teeth around vital parts, held back only by Chris’s armor and his feeble attempts at escape.

Yuuri looked to Georgi in a panic. Another of Chris’s screams ripped the air. What could they even do?

Victor popped into existence once more, appearing in the thick of it, swearing up the most colorful storm Yuuri had ever seen. His limbs flew out, kicking back the wolves’ faces and closing Chris in an enormous bear hug. His expression twitched into one of intense pain as both beasts got lucky strikes in, the smaller one glancing its teeth across his face and the larger fully sinking its teeth into his left forearm. Victor gasped in pain, but the arcane shimmer still gathered around him.

In the span of a second, Victor was there, and then his image was wavering again, shifting out of existence with a fluttery shunting sound, a harsh _shhhushh_ that fizzled to life a half a moment later on the exact opposite end of the room. He dumped Chris into relative safety.

Victor visibly wavered on his feet, bringing his palms up and passing his fingers over the jeweled gauntlet on his hand. With the gesture, he punched the air with open hands, letting two icy white jets rocket out of his hands, slamming brutally into the flank of the biggest wolf. It let out a gutteral yip of genuine shock, locking eyes with Victor. Surprise crossed its savage face, a slow dawn of realization, and then its expression turned serious at last.

“Ahhh. You've made a dire mistake, Silversworn,” it rumbled, looking downright pissed. “I have done no wrong to you or your prince, and I will not be punished for killing you.”

“Not another word!” Victor yelled, and he vanished again, shimmering out of sight.

Mila was hurling fire at another of the beasts, screaming in anger as she brought it low.

Yuuri shook himself. He was getting distracted. Mila was fine now, it seemed, almost like she'd managed to shake off whatever unholy effect the howling had left on her psyche.

Yuuri directed the last two meteors toward the gigantic wolf, trying to ignore the dark pricks of confusion at what it had said. Yuuri remembered the dark mass of chaotic energy he had summoned earlier, and he reached for it again. Whatever it was, it seemed fitting, and he poured as much energy into it as he dared, gathering more and more threads of magic into it, pouring it full of power. The core spasmed its rainbow of colors, and Yuuri launched it right at the biggest wolf.

The color was a poisonous green when it hit, and the wolf reeled, hacking and gagging on the cloud of poison that rushed down its throat. The one beside it growled. Georgi used the distraction to rush into the thick of things, dealing several brutal strikes, teeth glancing uselessly off his half plate armor. Arrows soared over his head, and small gouts of flame sputtered in the side of one of the wolves.

Yuuri glanced back. Chris was leaning heavily against the wall, bow in hand, grimacing but serious. He was already reaching for more arrows when Georgi was plowed to the ground. Yuuri started reaching for his magic desperately. More, more, he needed more. Damn casting taking so much time. His heart was racing as he reached and reached, clawing for threads of magic.

Victor popped back up again, still swearing, slashing at the beasts. Whatever had been said had thrown him off, and he was starting to panic. Only one hit connected, while the other missed by a hair. The biggest wolf caught Victor around middle, slamming him so hard into the ground that Victor was left gasping for air. Yuuri screamed in horror.

Victor seemed to reach for the magic, whatever it was that allowed him to phase in and out of reality, but it sputtered, and Victor gasped in pain as the massive beasts sank their teeth into him, ripping and yanking at whatever flesh they could tear into. Revenge for taking Chris away.

Yuuri closed his eyes and drew the energy inward, pushing with everything he had to hit them, kill them. Yuuri opened his eyes. He let it out in a burst.

The shuddering black mass flickered an array of colors, roiling and thick, slamming into the smaller wolf with a shimmer of violet. The bolt leapt, catching golden and bright like arcs of lightning, leaping over Victor’s body to the biggest beast, and the black and yellow mass struck home, sending the beasts seizing in the throes of a violent death by electrocution.

The big one slumped over Victor, crushing him under a mass of enormous, dead wolf. The crystal on its forehead dimmed slightly, the glow softening.

Yuuri couldn't move. He couldn't even breathe. He was numb as Mila slammed into his side, shaking him and screaming in his ear. Georgi was shoving the body of the wolf off of Victor, helping him to his feet.

They both turned to Yuuri.

“Yuuri, what was that? I've never seen anything like it-” Mila was chattering into his ear, calm as could be, _excited_ , like they hadn't just killed five more beasts, like Victor and Chris hadn't almost died, like Mila and Georgi hadn't been paralyzed by the howling only seconds ago.

Yuuri was shaking.

Georgi put his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder and nodded, stepping back to give him space. Victor pressed closer.

“Yuuri. Yuuri? Can you hear me?”

Victor’s tone was smooth, a bit shaken, but calm enough. He was bleeding. They all were, battered and frozen. There was a chorus of chattering teeth. The cave was colder inside than out.

It was like having cotton in his ears. Everything numb and distant and soft. Victor gave him a small shake, snapping his fingers, and the spark of warm persuasion rolled through Yuuri with a few words.

“Yuuri, come back to us. Yuuri.”

Yuuri's eyes fluttered, and he blinked himself back to attention, reeling suddenly. He pitched double and started to hurl off to his left, barely missing Mila and Georgi. Mila patted his back. Victor slicked his hair back from his forehead.

Yuuri choked and gasped for air. Chris slapped him on the back, and a rush of healing magic ripped through him, knitting together the scrapes, softening the deadened blackness in his fingers, steadying his stomach. Chris clapped a hand on Victor, and there was a similar rush of golden light.

Victor sighed, smiling as the worst of the wounds began to slow their bleeding. It wasn't much, but they wouldn't drop dead.

“We lived?” Yuuri panted. He almost couldn't believe it. He slicked his hand over his mouth, but the taste of bile remained on his lips. “They're gone?”

Victor laughed incredulously. “You had doubts?” Yuuri fell back, feeling slap-happy and dizzied by everything. “I promised you, Yuuri. You would make it out of this. I am sorry, though,” he added, immediately sobering. “You weren't meant to get hurt. I didn't think you'd be in the thick of things like this.”

Victor patted him on the shoulder again. His smile returned, radiant and blazingly beautiful.

“Didn't I tell you, though, áre? You're so much better than you know.”

“What happened?” Yuuri managed to say. “You were… appearing and disappearing. Why did it stop? How did they get you?”

“It's hard to control,” Victor said. He sat down on the ground, heaving out a loaded sigh. The others sat around them, catching their breath and decompressing after the adrenaline rush. “I sometimes disappear when I want to stay, and stay when I don't want to. I guess it failed me when I needed it most. Lucky you were there to take care of them, right? I owe you my life, áre.” He winked, and a nervous burst of energy ripped through Yuuri.

Yuuri had saved him?

No, that was ridiculous. Chris was ready to make the kill, and Mila could have stepped in if Yuuri hadn't. Yuuri had just gotten there a split second faster, was all.

“Not for nothing, Victor, but what the _fuck_  was that thing?” Chris ground out, jabbing a thumb at the biggest wolf. “That's not a Winter Wolf.”

“It's not,” Victor breathed. He closed his eyes.

“It knew you,” Yuuri said.

“Everyone knows me. I'm hard to miss,” Victor said, not arrogantly, but as a soft statement of fact. He was instantly recognizable on sight. Anyone with a shred of intelligence could see this man was the legendary Prince Victor, his long white hair marking him as something different. Something unique.

Mila shook her head. “No, I heard it. It called you Silversworn?”

Victor bristled immediately. “Don't,” he snapped. “Don't say that name. Please.” His shoulders slumped. A flash of panic ripped through him, and he jolted to his feet.

“Wait, Victor, what are you-” Georgi sputtered, but Victor was circling the room, feeling along the stone walls, his eyes reflecting light when he left the reach of the small glowing pebble still kicked in the middle of the room. They could hear Victor moving through the darkness.

The low light gave everything a curiously dim cast, the shadows long and twisting. Victor was pale when he returned.

“What? What's wrong?” Chris asked. He looked concerned, and Yuuri agreed. Victor’s usual smile was gone. If anything, he looked sick to his stomach now.

Victor waved them off. “Just forget it. It’s nothing. We need to get back home, and we need to hurry. And we need to tell my father that these things were here.”

Victor put a finger to his lips, beginning to pace now.

“If we can get back soon enough, it’s possible that we can send someone to collect the corpses for research purposes. We don't know enough about these things, and there are uses for their parts that could serve to be beneficial in the future. Especially that,” Victor added, pointing to the crystal embedded in the big wolf’s skull.

He crouched beside it, trailing his fingers lightly over the stone. His gaze hardened.

“A Wolf of Frigid Doom, they're called in their homelands. We can't leave this lying around, and we can't remove it without taking precautions. We have to find a way to bring it along.”

“We can ask the villagers for a cart. Maybe we can carry it back to Rostele,” Chris suggested.

Georgi shook his head. “Rostele is three days away, four or five if we have to walk beside a wagon. By then, the body would start to rot.”

“Well we can't leave it and come back!” Mila said, eying the body with interest. “And I'm not passing up a chance to study this thing.”

“I might have an idea,” Yuuri said in a small voice.

The others looked at him. Yuuri felt a swell of pressure, but he pressed on. “It would take a little bit of time, but I might be able to draw a teleport circle. It would bring us back to the Citadel in Rostele.”

Mila’s expression turned jubilant. “Yes! We can teleport home! Oh my gods, this is brilliant! Yuuri, why didn't you tell us you could do that sooner?”

Yuuri flushed. “I… ah… I've never done it before. I only know how it works in theory.”

Victor was nodding. “And you didn't want to bring him,” he said to Georgi, before clapping a hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Let’s try it.”

Yuuri shook his head. “That's if it even works at all. And if it somehow does, we’ll still need the cart. We would have to have the horses pull it onto the circle after I drew it. And the magic would only last a little bit of time, so we would have to work fast.”

“We can work fast,” Chris said.

“I can send word ahead,” Mila said. “I've got enough juice for two messages, but then I'm tapped out. Like, I'm almost completely done for the day. I could maybe manage a few little things, but I can only send two messages to Rostele.”

“Seriously?” Victor groaned. “Just two?”

“Hey, you try instantaneously delivering a message from here to Rostele. Come on, I'm waiting,” Mila said. She cocked her hips. “Can't do it?”

Victor looked sheepish. “That fight took it out of me. I'm tapped, too, at least until I take a breather.”

“And?” Mila said. She raised one eyebrow expectantly.

He sighed. “And I don't know how.”

“Exactly. I'll tell the citadel to keep the way clear. We've got, what, five horses, five humans, and how many of these wolves coming through?”

“We should round some of the others up. At least take the pelts,” Chris said. He grimaced. “We’ll definitely need that cart. I'll ride back to town and see if any of the villagers can spare one. Might be good to let them know everything’s been taken care of, too.”

Victor looked distracted. He nodded, waving his hand at Chris. “Sure. Take Yuuri and Georgi with you. Mila and I can watch the cave.” He fished through his pockets, coming up with a small cloth sack. He tossed it to Yuuri. It rattled noisily in his palms with the clanking of metal.

“Give them this for the cart. Tell them their troubles are over, and that if they happen to have any more, to send word immediately.”

Yuuri nodded. Victor turned, studying the cave’s back face. Mila joined them on the walk back to the mouth of the cave, picking their way carefully behind Chris, aided by Yuuri’s dancing lights.

“I don't want to risk the messages getting burred up, so I'm going to send them out here,” she said. Georgi and Chris led Yuuri to where the horses were tethered. They freed three of the horses, and started their way back. It was faster this time around, with less meandering and searching to rob them of precious time, and they took the horses at a slightly faster clip. The cave ended up being only a few hours outside the town, when it was all said and done.

They stopped at the tavern they had started at when they first rode into town, and the three walked in. Like the first time, it fell into dead silence as they entered.

Yuuri glanced down at himself, then at the others, realizing for the first time what they looked like. Gone were the other two looking like young nobles fresh from a hard ride. The three were drenched in a mix of blood and mud, their clothes half-frozen on the edges and much of it tattered from teeth and claws. Their hair was a mess, and their faces were caked with grime.

The bartender seemed shocked to see them. Chris sank into a bar stool with a long sigh. “They're dead,” he said. “Your wolf problem has been dealt with.”

“Yeh don't mean…” the gruff bartender looked between the three, falling silent as he counted their number.

“No, no, they're fine,” Georgi said. “The prince asked us for a favor. Do you know of anyone who could sell us a cart? Something big? We can pay.”

The bartender rubbed his beard. “I can send someone to ask around. Yer certain? They're dead?” he asked in a shocked whisper.

Chris leaned back, nodding. “All eight of the bastards. Prince Victor wanted the town to know that the problem has been taken care of. If something like this happens again, he would like to be the first to know.”

“We thank yeh,” the bartender said. His expression softened a little. “Really.” The man gestured to a younger looking man with a few wisps of hair on his upper lip and a shag of blond hair. “Hey, these men need teh buy a cart. Find someone willing tah sell, and make it snappy, boy.”

The young man nodded and left immediately.

With that, the bartender slotted four glasses onto the bar, filling each with a large measure of clear liquor.

“I don't know how to thank yeh enough,” he said. “I'm not much for thanks, really, so here. On the house. To those dead bastards.”

The bartender raised a glass, and they each took one. Yuuri hesitated, then drained his glass like the others had. It burned like fire on the way down, settling hot and heavy in his stomach. He could feel it sitting there, almost unpleasant, and his head swam a little.

Yuuri’s stomach felt a little empty. But Chris was cheering and delighted by the drink, and the bartender refilled it without hesitation. “That's good,” Chris said, draining his glass again like it it was water.

Georgi sipped on his, pulling the locket out from around his neck. He wasn't crying, but he did trail his fingers fondly over the portrait.

Yuuri found his glass full of more of the clear liquor. “Drink up!” the bartender said. “Least I do! In fact, take the whole bottle!”

* * *

Despite Chris’s best intentions, they did not get drunk. Georgi snagged the bottle and reminded him there was business.

While they waited for someone to find a suitably large cart, Yuuri found Irené and her husband and told them the news. The two tearfully embraced him, pleased beyond measure. He bid them a fond farewell, and a best of luck.

Yuuri passed over the cloth bag to the man willing to sell his cart. It wasn't the nicest wagon Yuuri had ever seen, a little older and the wheels weren't the straightest, but it looked solid and it was big enough to fit three or four horses inside, which meant it would be more than sufficient for the Wolf of Frigid Doom and perhaps one or two of the others.

They made a stop at the site of the other battle. The bodies of the fallen wolves were mostly untouched, however carrion birds had already begun to creep toward the remains. Yuuri could see where the fur had been singed and the pelt damaged.

Between the three of them and all their strength, they managed to heft the bodies one by one into the cart. They walked beside it the rest of the way, the horses heaving under the tremendous strain of the weight.

Mila had mended her clothes while they were gone, and she passed her fingers over the gaps and tears in their clothes with a little, amused hum.

“You couldn't have fixed it before we left? You wound me, Mila,” Chris cried, throwing back his head.

Yuuri glanced around when his turn was finished but, Victor was conspicuously not in the clearing outside the cave. He picked his way inside, leaving the others alone. Victor was standing near the back with his eyes closed. He didn't move when Yuuri entered. Yuuri was almost scared to break the heavy silence.

“We have the cart,” Yuuri said at last.

“Thank you.” Victor turned, then opened his eyes after a beat. “Can you have the others bring it in?”

Yuuri nodded. “Is… everything alright?” he asked.

Victor nodded. “Yes, I'm fine. Just a bit shocked after the fight. I didn't expect to find winter wolves out here, let alone a goddamned Frigid Doom. But it's over,” he said, a bit forcefully.

Yuuri nodded. “It's over,” he echoed.

“I've been thinking, Yuuri. You’ll be compensated for your efforts. But what do you want? Money? Fame? I pay my dues, and fair is fair, you've gone above and beyond expectations, and you deserve it.”

Yuuri was quiet. “I don't know. I honestly haven't thought that far ahead. Um. Something small to bring back home when I leave… that would be nice, I think. I want them to be proud of me. My family, I mean.”

Victor nodded. “Your family… you're close, right?”

“Quite. It's a little scary to be so far away from them, and I miss them, but at the same time, I know they're proud that I made it here. And… that makes me really happy,” Yuuri admitted. “I told you, I've never traveled before. So being away isn't something I'm used to.”

“Is that bad?” Victor asked.

Yuuri fell silent, considering the pangs of homesickness, the awful feeling of missing his family, but also the endless thrill of being here in Corussva, of seeing things Yuuri had only ever heard about in stories. It was terrible and wonderful all in one.

“Not at all,” he said. “I just wish I could talk to them, though. Let them know I made it this far, that I'm dancing for the wedding.”

Victor hummed, tapping his lip with his finger. “Well, aré, you've given me some things to think about. You'll get your reward within a day or two, I promise.”

“Please, don't think you need to do anything excessive because of the winter wolves,” Yuuri said. “I'm not upset or anything. It was an honest mistake.” He dipped his head. “Oh, and I almost forgot. Your ring.”

Yuuri pulled the band from his thumb, holding it out.

Victor shook his head. “Ah, but you see, we aren't back in Rostele yet. And you promised to keep it until then,” he said, and that smooth as silk smile was back on his face.

Yuuri glanced at the ring in his palm. “I did?”

Victor nodded, that same smile plastered on his face. Something seemed off about him for a while.

It made sense now.

Yuuri put the back on his thumb with a frown. “It's not your fault, you know.”

“What?” Victor asked, looking genuinely surprised now.

“The wolves. You're not… your smile is different,” Yuuri amended. “After the wolves, you stopped smiling the same. It's not your fault you didn't know. None of us did.”

Victor’s eyebrows rose by slow degrees. “Well. Aré. That's…” he trailed off.

“You don't have to beat yourself up about it. Mila and the others, I'm sure none of them are angry. It was a close call, sure, and we got a little roughed up, but they all love you. Georgi said you were family. And family wouldn't get upset over something like this,” Yuuri said. He coughed.

Victor was wide-eyed. Probably shocked that Yuuri had said anything so bold and presumptuous. This was a mistake, a horrible mistake. Yuuri backed away, flushing.

“I'm sorry. I'm talking out of turn. I'll… go tell the others.” He turned and bolted before Victor could say anything at all.

The others were cheerfully bickering outside. With all of the wolf corpses gathered, they were discussing which ones had the cleanest pelts. It seemed Chris still wanted his cape.

The embarrassed heat in his cheeks refused to fade during the walk. He slapped his cheeks and shook himself off, trying to forget the misstep. “Victor wants to bring the cart in,” he reported when he felt a little calmer.

“Yuuri, tell Chris that a little burnt hair is easier to clean around than all this acid,” Mila replied instantly, gesturing to the wolves.

Yuuri glanced down. The bodies were bloodied and caked in mud, but it was still possible to see the silky silver fur covering each of the massive bodies. Two of them seemed less singed and not covered in acid. There were apparently arguing over which was in the third best shape. He felt bile rising in the back of his throat, and he turned away, trying to keep from retching again.

“Katya…” Georgi sniffled from the ground near the bodies. He was pouring over the portrait again. It seemed that the distraction of imminent demise only lasted for as long as the danger did. And now that they were safe and finished with their mission, he was back to his heartbroken longing.

Yuuri steadied himself after a long, deep breath. “Um… that one would probably make a better cape, I think,” he said, pointing a finger at the less melted one. Mila crowed in victory.

She made an elaborate gesture involving a tiny vial of mercury and a brief chant, and the body suddenly pitched up off the ground, rising up on a shimmering, 3-foot diameter disk that hovered just above waist high in the air. She stepped back, and once she was twenty feet away, the disk began to bob toward her, positioned right up against the cart. Chris and Georgi shoved it in.

“Okay,” Yuuri said to himself, turning around slowly at the casualness of the entire ordeal. He found his hands clawing at his hair, a little incredulous.

This was all happening. He had helped a prince and his friends defeat a group of magical beasts, and now they were using magic to move horse-sized dogs into a wagon. Magic.

A month ago, Yuuri’s own abilities were about the only magical thing he'd ever seen, short of a few parlor tricks from a traveling magician, and the handful of wizards who would take trips from their cloistered school to bathe in the therapeutic waters of the hot spring.

Magic was rare. It wasn't for common folk like the citizens of Hasetsu. It wasn't for the people of Trisken, even. Yuuri’s was mysterious and chaotic and impossible to fully control without strangling it under dance moves and structure and endless routine.

But for Mila, it was easy as breathing. She used magic for her own reasons, and she used it to make her life more efficient and easy.

It was a little staggering to even consider.

By the same token, there was Victor. He implied he had some degree of magical knowledge, and the stories had agreed. But Yuuri had never expected it to be as chaotic as his own, so out of control and left to chance. Whatever his ability to blink in and out of existence, it had nearly been his death.

It was terrifying. Magic was terrifying. But by that same token…

Mila threw joyful sparks into the air as they finished slugging the body onto the wagon, turning a few happy spins. She beamed at Yuuri.

 “Come on, you big damn hero, let's go home.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New UA came out, so a spell Yuuri was going to discover in battle was replaced with a new, different one. Which I like better. Much better. *rubs hands* *smiles evilly* Some of the magic used will be explained better next chapter.
> 
> This fight was beautifully cinematic. I didn't fudge rolls or anything. This shit actually happened by the dice. The Wolf of Frigid Doom rolled a nat 20 on Victor, and when he bites, it's a DC 16 strength saving throw to not be knocked to the ground. Victor rolled a 3. Hit the deck motherfuckers. Meanwhile Yuuri’s new spell has the chaotic ability to split under very specific circumstances (this being when doubles are rolled. Doubles were indeed rolled) and hit another target. ABSOLUTE MADNESS.
> 
> Also, I operate on the principle that every mechanical decision in a character build needs a backstory related explanation. So rather than give Yuuri a bunch of combat spells right off the bat, I left some blank spots open in his list of known spells, and gave him only the shiny pretty ones that work for performances. He will probably figure a few more out, but he's a long way from leveling up. He's just short on spells :) just for future reference.

**Author's Note:**

> Because this is based on a D&D campaign I will never get to run, I'm rolling dice to determine what happens. Should make things interesting.


End file.
